Absolution
by Jules-foil
Summary: AU. There was more to Chase’s decision to go to Vogler than trying to keep his job. Afterward it's all over his guilt won’t let him stay quiet anymore. What has Chase been hiding from House? Credit to Fox, all disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

Cameron and Foreman had both gone home. Chase was working later, as was usual now, while House played his Game Boy and enjoyed the intensivist's desperate struggles to remain employed. Whatever he asked of Chase these days was given to him without question or complaint. Of course, his hesitancy to contribute during differential diagnoses was getting a little inconvenient, but some heavy taunting and forcing Chase to read every diagnostics text he could find an excuse to assign would take care of that. And if Chase's distraction didn't let up he could always fire him, or at least threaten to again. Still, the kid was looking a bit haggard; weight-loss was starting to show. Maybe it was time to give him back his lunch breaks.

After watching his game-icon die for the fifth time on the same level, House decided he'd had enough for one evening. He put away his toys and thumped out of the office, pointedly ignoring Chase who was bent over a mess of files that House had given him to sort through. He didn't even remember what it was, exactly, he'd told Chase to do with them, but Chase was doing it diligently whatever it was. It looked like he'd be there at least another few hours if he wanted to finish tonight.

"Dr. House," Chase called after him hesitantly before the door closed. House paused and glanced over his shoulder. Chase started to say something, but closed his mouth again and bent back over the mess of papers.

"That better be done by tomorrow morning," House warned. Whatever it was. Then he stalked into the hall and let the door fall shut heavily behind him.

Wilson was waiting for him when he passed through oncology. They stepped into the elevator together and Wilson hit the button for the parking garage, but just as the doors were closing a hand shot in to stop them. They slid back open revealed Chase, trying to catch his breath.

"Dr. House." Chase repeated, much more determined.

"Don't you have work you're supposed to be doing?" House snapped at him and rapped his knuckles with his cane so he'd let go of the door, but Chase reached back inside the car and hit the stop button.

"There's something I need you to see," Chase said. "It won't take long, but I think it's important."

"Can't it wait?" House said.

"It's been waiting," Chase insisted. "Please."

House rolled his eyes. "All right, fine. What do you want to show me?"

Chase stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. "We need to stop at Dr. Cuddy's office first," he explained. "I'll try not to keep you long,."

"You better not," House grumbled. He turned to Wilson. "You want to tag along, or you need to get home?"

"Well now he's got me curious," Wilson said. "I think I'll stick around."

"Oh…I'm not sure…" Chase said. He chewed his bottom lip and regarded Wilson. "Well, I suppose…Yeah, I guess maybe you should come. All right."

They reached Dr. Cuddy's office just as she was wrapping up for the evening. She frowned when her office was invaded by the three men, none looking particularly happy. The last thing this hospital needed was more drama between Drs. House and Chase.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Cuddy asked.

"Ask Chase," House tattled. "He's the one dragging us around the hospital."

"I'm going to take Dr. House upstairs," Chase said heavily. Cuddy continued to frown for a moment, but suddenly her eyes shot wide open and her jaw went limp. "I just thought I should let you know."

"Dr. Chase, are you sure about this?" Cuddy asked. "As I recall you were fairly adamant about… privacy."

"Privacy?" House repeated. "On my team? That's practically a violation of contract! You have no privacy!"

"Dr. Cuddy, I have a lot of work ahead of me if I'm going to earn back my colleagues' trust," Chase replied. "And I think the only way I'm ever going to be able to do that is if I give mine first." He exhaled heavily and glanced back at House, who was leaning with both hands on his cane and glowering over being ignored. "I owe him an explanation."

"That's for damn sure," House growled. Wilson just shrugged. Chase was a generally private person, but he never would have described him as mysterious before.

"Okay," Cuddy nodded. She picked up her briefcase and coat. "Well then I guess I'd better join you. Let's go."

Chase led them back to the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Palliative Care?" Wilson frowned. Dr. Cuddy shook her head and pursed her lips. Chase fixated on the glowing floor numbers. House rolled his eyes and hunched his shoulders, tapping the floor with his cane. They reached the fifth floor and Chase walked briskly down the hall. House had to struggle to keep up, which did nothing to improve his mood. He had no idea where they were even going. House's department worked mostly to cure acute unknown illnesses; by the time a patient was ready for Palliative, they'd long since left his dominion. In fact, House couldn't recall ever being on this floor before, except in brief passing.

Finally, they stopped in front of a corner door at the end of an off-shoot corridor. House glanced at the tag under the room number, but there was no patient listed and with no corridor windows in Palliative, he couldn't guess who was inside. Chase reached into his pocket for his keys and flipped to a small silver one; it was hospital issued. He unlocked the door, turned the handle, but then he hesitated. He leaned his forehead against the door with closed eyes; he looked like he was praying. The same anger House felt when he saw Chase coming out of the chapel stuck in his throat again.

"You know what, I've had enough of this 'I've got a secret' crap, Chase," House snarled. "It's late. I'm tired. So why don't you just get to the point before I go ahead and…" Chase pushed open the door and stepped aside so House could see the patient lying in the bed. "Holy shit."


	2. Chapter 2

The bed was tilted just high enough into a seated position so that there could be no mistake. Sleeping in the sterile hospital bed, with an incongruously homey patchwork quilt thrown over his lap, an oxygen tube up his nose, and a feeding tube in his stomach, was a perfect replica of Robert Chase. He was thinner, gaunt almost, with a sloppy haircut and stubble; but aside from these superficial differences, the patient and the doctor now standing beside him were absolutely identical.

"What the hell…" Wilson gasped. "Who is that?"

"This," Chase sighed and gripped the hand of the unconscious stranger. "Is Richard Chase. Ricky. My twin."

"You have a twin?" House gaped. He turned accusingly to Cuddy. "He has a twin? In this hospital? How the hell did I not know about this? And why the hell did you?"

"Dr. Chase came to me privately after he was invited into your fellowship, but before he actually accepted the job," Cuddy explained. She glanced at Chase, who nodded his permission. "He told me about the situation with his brother and asked if we could come to some arrangement. He said it was important to him that this remain a private family matter, so I agreed that you wouldn't need to be included as long as it didn't affect his performance."

"What situation are we talking about here?" House shouted angrily. "What the hell is going on?"

"House, take it easy," Wilson shushed. "You'll wake him up."

"No, he won't," Chase corrected. "Nothing will. Ricky is in a coma. If you would sit down," Chase motioned to the particle board table sitting in the corner of the room with two matching chairs. It wasn't hospital issue. "I'll explain everything."

Wilson and House took the chairs while Cuddy stayed by the door. House slumped down with his leg out straight. "This better be good," he warned and stared deliberately at Chase, and not the man in the bed.

"Ricky and I were both involved in an accident when we were 17," Chase said. The same year his wino-mother died, House noted, but he didn't pursue it. "We both sustained head injuries and fell into comas on the way to the hospital." House leaned forward; this was getting interesting already. He'd never known Chase had received any massive head trauma. He could use that to tease him next time he made a stupid suggestion. "Two weeks later, I woke up. Ricky didn't."

"Wait," House interjected. Suddenly this wasn't a fun opportunity anymore. "You're saying he's been like that consistently since you were seventeen? That's, what, almost nine years now?" Chase nodded.

"Why?" Wilson asked. "What went wrong?"

"Don't know," Chase shrugged. "He's been seen by over a dozen neurologists since it happened, but none of them can explain it. There's no reason he can't wake up; it's like he just won't."

"So what about this arrangement I've heard so little about?" House demanded. He hunkered down in his seat and ground his teeth. Didn't need to be included his ass! How the hell could he not need to know that one of his staff had an identical twin lying comatose in this very hospital? How Chase managed to keep this from him for so long?

"Our father was Ricky's legal custodian after the accident," Chase said. "But I've always been his primary caregiver. So, after I turned 18, Dad set up a trust to cover bills and everything with me as the trustee. When I finished med school and started residency I sent him the paperwork to make me Ricky's sole guardian. He signed without a fuss and we came to the States. Ricky was in a private hospital for a while, but it was getting too expensive. When I got this job, I went spoke to Dr. Cuddy about having my brother transferred here as well.

"We struck a deal," Chase continued. "While I'm employed here, Ricky can stay as well, as long as I cover all cost for his care. His doctor, physical therapist, nurse; they're all private practitioners. I cover the cost of any hospital equipment they use, as well as a monthly fee for his housing. Ricky has round the clock medical attention and it generates a bit more revenue for the hospital."

Well, that explained why House didn't know. A private doctor wouldn't risk his paycheck by violating doctor-patient confidentiality. But his colleagues had no such excuse. Chase definitely had a lot of groveling in his future. And as for Cuddy, well, if he played her right maybe he could get his clinic duty cut back a bit.

"Okay, not to sound like a cold, uncaring son of a bitch," Wilson said. House grunted and narrowed his eyes, like he wasn't sure whether or not he'd just been insulted. "But I don't see where you're going with this. What does your brother have to do with Vogler? I mean, that is why you brought us up here, isn't it?"

"Ricky here is only allowed to stay in this facility as long as Dr. Chase is an employee," House guessed. "If Chase was fired, Ricky would be out of a bed."

"I panicked," Chase confirmed. "I knew you were going to get rid of me and…Okay, we need to go back. You remember I said that my father set up a trust to cover Ricky's care?" The doctors all nodded. "Well, no one ever thought Ricky would stay this way for so long. Some profitable investments have kept us going long past what was originally intended. Even so, at this point Ricky's trust is nearly drained. It'll last another year or two, and that's stretching it." Cuddy bit her lip to keep from interrupting. She knew Chase's situation was already worse than he let on. The private staff salaries were covered by the trust, but the equipment and housing fees Chase paid for out-of-pocket. "My brother knows that and..."

"If he's aware enough to know he's a financial burden, why doesn't he wake up already?" House interrupted. "Or is he one of those parasitic twins?" Wilson kicked him sharply under the table, in his bad leg. He put up with a lot from his friend, but this was not the time to be snide just for fun. House bit his lip to keep from screaming curses. He reached into his pocket and shoveled a Vicodin into his mouth. Chase poured a glass of water from the pitcher at his brother's bedside.

"Sorry, I didn't mean Ricky; I have an older brother as well," Chase said as he handed House the cup. House snatched it from him and swallowed his pill. "I guess you wouldn't have heard about him, actually. Different circle. Jakub is a senior executive in an engineering firm in Sydney. He's fifteen years older than us; we're not close. But he's been fighting me for a few years now to get custody of Ricky. Dad refuses to get involved legally, but he's made it pretty damn clear that he agrees with Jakub. That's why I moved us to the States in the first place. It's harder for them to overturn my guardianship internationally."

"Why are they trying to overturn it all?" Wilson asked. But House could guess where this story was leading and he was already wishing Chase's family was there so he could ram his cane into various sensitive areas. "I mean, you seem to be handling things."

"They want to take him off the feeding tube," Chase said thickly. "There's nothing wrong with him! He's not on life-support. He's not brain dead or vegetative. He just can't wake up! But they want to kill him. Like feeding him is a waste of money or something. Jakub's probably spent as much as what's left in Ricky's trust on legal fees since he started this whole thing!"

"Chase," Cuddy tried to intervene, but House put his cane in her path.

"I'm sorry," Chase said. He was looking House in the eye for the first time in days. "I'm sorry. I knew if I was fired it would be exactly what Jakub needs to take Ricky. I can't let that happen. I know what I did was wrong. I don't know what the right thing was, but it certainly wasn't what I did. I really messed things up, I know."

"Why are you telling me this, Chase?" House asked. He stood up and walked over to him. "What exactly are you aiming for?"

"Just time," Chase pleaded. House blinked and frowned. "I just need a little time to find another hospital that will take Ricky and me. Then I'll resign. You won't have to fire me. I won't cause any more trouble for the hospital or you. Just let me leave on my own. Please."

"No," House said almost immediately.

"Jesus, House!" Wilson snapped at him. The kid wasn't even asking to keep his job anymore, just for the time to find a new one.

"You're not resigning," House continued.

"House, please," Chase begged. "Even if my actions were unforgivable…"

"You think I'm going to put myself through the hell that is interviewing just because you're family has more drama than a month's worth of my shows?" House demanded. "Forget it, Oz-man. You and I have an agreement too, all nicely wrapped in a legally binding contract. You're mine, at least until the fellowship ends." He whacked Chase in the stomach with his cane, just hard enough to make him cough. "Deal with it."

Aside from the bleep of Ricky's monitors, nobody made a sound. Wilson was fighting not to smile proudly at his friend. Cuddy looked stunned but pleased. Chase was positively dumbfounded. His brother's hand had slipped from his limp hold. House smirked and walked to the end of the bed to flip through Ricky's chart while Chase collected himself.

"Are you serious?" Chase gasped. "You want me to stay? After what I did?"

"Well, granted I'm not the one who dropped out of priest school," House said. "But last time I checked, desperately scrambling to keep your comatose twin alive wasn't an unforgivable sin. But like I said, I'm not the expert. Guess you'll have to take that up with God."

"It's not God's forgiveness I'm interested in," Chase said with a pale blush.

"Are you saying there's a difference between the two?" House gibed. "No? All right, then. You're forgiven. And I'm off the clock. So, unless Chase has any more earth-shaking confessions to entertain me with…"

"No," Chase murmured. His blue eyes were brighter through a saline sheen.

"Right," House nodded sharply, put down Ricky's chart, and limped out of the room and back toward the elevator. Wilson squeezed Chase's shoulder once before following.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with him knowing about this?" Cuddy asked.

"I guess that's up to him now, isn't it?" Chase sighed.

"Come on," Cuddy rested her hand on his arm. "House is right; it's late. Let's get out of here."

"You go on ahead," Chase shook his head. "I want to stay with him a while." Cuddy nodded and headed for the stairs. Chase shut the door behind her. He kicked off his shoes and socks, climbed onto the bed next to his twin, and fell asleep with his head on Ricky's shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well," Wilson heaved a sigh and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. "That was unexpected." House just pushed to lobby button with his cane and watched the glowing numbers change. "Hey. You all right?"

"I didn't even know he had a twin," House grumbled. "I think I remember finding something on the older brother when I checked him out for his interview, but I don't remember anything about a twin. How could I have missed that?"

"Well, it's obviously a sensitive subject for him," Wilson said. "Rowan Chase must not be involved much if your Chase has been watching out for Ricky since he was 18. This thing probably stopped being big news on his circuit a long time ago. Hell, I think it's a pretty big gesture that Chase told you at all, circumstances notwithstanding."

"What gesture?" House said. "I should have been told right from the start."

"Come on, you know Cuddy couldn't break a doctor's confidence like that," Wilson said.

"Chase should have told me," House insisted

"Oh yeah, like that was ever going happen," Wilson chuckled. "I mean, come on, when was the last time Chase confided in any of his co-workers, let alone you? I mean, seriously, before tonight how much did you really know about the guy?" The elevator doors pinged open and House charged out with painfully lengthened strides. Wilson caught up with him and held a hand on his arm to slow him down. "I don't know about you, but I'm really wanting a drink right now. What do you say, huh? Let's go."

"When was the last time you actually saw your wife?" House asked. "You know, you keep spending so much time with me and this one's going to get suspicious too." He still followed Wilson out to the parking lot and over to the nearest drinking hole.

Soon the pair was on their second round. Wilson went ahead and ordered a third before he even took his first sip, hoping to loosen House up enough to get him to say more than one snippy sentence at a time. They'd known each other long enough for Wilson to know when his friend had been shaken; and this was definitely one of those times. After all, they'd learned more about Chase in the past twenty minutes than in all the time he'd worked at PPTH. And he doubted anyone had ever seen the stoic young doctor quite so exposed. Also, seeing that doppelganger in the bed had been more than just a little unsettling.

"They really are perfectly identical," Wilson pressed. House snorted and took another swig of his Scotch. "Things were pretty tense between Chase and his father weren't they? I don't think Rowan even visited Ricky while he was here. I mean, we would have heard something if Rowan Chase gone up to Palliative, so I guess…"

"You know why it bothered me so much," House interrupted. "Chase going to Vogler."

"Because he nearly got you fired?" Wilson guessed without missing a beat. "No, wait, that's professional. This was personal. Okay, so, because…"

"Chase is different," House said.

"Well, he is Australian," Wilson said. House glared at him; apparently he was actually being serious. "Different from Cameron and Foreman? How?"

"Well, there is that," House agreed. "Chase isn't confrontational like Foreman. I mean, Foreman argues with me like it's his job. Mostly because he thinks he could do mine. It's not enough for him to be right; he has to prove everyone else wrong.

"And he's not clingy like Cameron," House continued. "She'd rather I let a patient go belly-up than hurt their precious feelings. The fact that I am uninhibited by such trivialities…"

"You mean feelings?" Wilson clarified with a smirk.

"Seems to be some sort of personal affront to her," House rolled his eyes. "It's like she thinks I'm a patient she needs to fix. I swear, sometimes I want to send her up to psych ward and tell her to either get over her issues or join the fuzzy-feely-fruitcakes herself."

"Chase is different?" Wilson encouraged.

"Chase is different," House nodded. "He doesn't fight me just to fight me. He argues when he thinks he's right, which is still annoying, but he never assumes I'm wrong. No matter how crazy or rude or, hell, even illegal I get, he was always along for the ride until this."

"Well, he's been here the longest," Wilson shrugged. "He knows how to work with you, what he can expect."

"He's been here longer than any of them," House realized. He'd never actually done the math before, but it was true. "Not just Cameron and Foreman. In all the time I've had a team Chase has lasted longer with me than anyone else I've taken on."

"So," Wilson tried to muddle out where House was going with this. "You're disappointed in Chase because he didn't stick by you this time." House grunted in what could have been scorn or confirmation. "Before he…what? Admired you? And now…"

"He had faith in me," House interrupted. Wilson choked a bit on his drink. He fumbled his glass and it tipped what remained all over the table. House handed him a few napkins. "He lost his faith in God, but he had faith in me. And then his job was on the line and poof! Faith is gone. He just assumed that he would be the one I got rid of."

"Was he wrong?" Wilson asked as he mopped up the spill.

"He was right," House grumbled. "It was always going to be Chase, even if he'd never spoken to Vogler. Know why?"

"He messed up that angio," Wilson remembered.

"Ah, he missed something," House waved it off. "They all miss something. That's why they need me. Hell, if I went back and checked who misses the most somethings I probably would have cut Cameron. No. I was going to cut Chase because he's been here the longest. He doesn't flinch anymore, so I figured this was a good time to get some new blood in here. I was getting bored with him."

"Wow," Wilson said. "That's cold, Greg. Even for you. But, you are keeping him on now, right? I mean, you weren't just jerking him around up there."

"He had faith in God and he had faith in me," House repeated. He grabbed his cane and stiffly grappled out of his seat. "Apparently God didn't pull through for him. Let's see if I can do better." House all-but-hopped his way out of the bar. Wilson cancelled the next round of drinks and picked up the tab.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning House was eagerly swaying next to the whiteboard, waiting for his staff. Chase was first, as usual, but he grabbed the newspaper, took a seat at the far corner, and didn't speak. House's leg started to get stiff so he walked around for a while, from his office desk, into the conference room to the bookshelf. He fiddled with the blinds and checked the coffee supply. Chase didn't look up once the entire time, even when House knocked into his chair.

House smiled wickedly; so Chase was feeling a little shy today, huh? Well, he could fix that. Since Chase clearly wanted to avoid unnecessary contact with him, House pulled up a chair right next to him and sat leaning so close their shoulders were just touching. Then he stared intently at the side of Chase's head while he filled in the New York Times crossword.

Chase was so tense House probably could have knocked him over with one finger, but he didn't move away or acknowledge House at all. He had revealed more of his life to House and the other supervisors last night than anyone else had been privy to since he left Melbourne. It had been necessary. But his family had always taught him that personal and professional do not mix, so now he was determined to reestablish some boundaries. Let House be his usual, vindictive, irritating self; Chase was not going to be pulled in. So they stayed like that for maybe six minutes until Foreman arrived. Chase bit down his startle response when the door opened, and House just smirked a little wider.

"Morning, Foreman," Chase greeted without looking up.

"Uh, hello," Foreman said, looking back and forth between his supervisor and co-worker. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Dr. House has apparently adopted my interest in crosswords," Chase shrugged and tried not to frown when it failed to dislodge his boss. "He's not being very helpful though."

"That one's Schubert," House pointed to 13-across. "There. Don't say I never did anything for you."

"I'm eternally grateful," Chase said and filled in the boxes.

House smiled triumphantly. Not only had he gotten Chase to interact, but it looked like he managed to thoroughly confuse Foreman in the process. Bonus. Cameron arrived a few moments later, so House abandoned Chase's personal space and took up position by the white board.

"Okay, everyone sit," House commanded. He uncapped his blue marker. "We've got a new case." Chase set aside his newspaper, but kept his pencil to chew on. Cameron set the coffee pot to brew and sat closest to it. Foreman took a seat in front of the white board. "The patient is a white twenty-six year old male," House said. He wrote while he spoke. "Almost twenty-seven. And he is in a coma. Initial cause was some kind of head trauma."

"If they already know what caused it, why are we taking the case?" Foreman interrupted. Cameron nodded her agreement. Chase was rapidly losing color. He quickly removed his pencil from his mouth before he choked.

"Because the trauma occurred nearly a decade ago," House answered Foreman,but he was watching Chase. "And he's still unconscious. All tests say that he should have woken up years ago. He's undergone multiple treatments, with no success to speak of."

"Well, just because the trauma's old doesn't mean it's not still affecting him." Foreman wasn't convinced. "If the brain damage was heavy enough…"

"MRI, CT, and PET all show no significant brain damage," House interjected gleefully. "At least nothing to explain his Rip Van Winkle routine." He turned to Chase again to see if his Aussie would know the reference, but sure enough Chase's forehead was creased with confusion. He was also starting to take on the color of curdled milk. "So, the patient isn't on life-support. Not a veggie. Brain damage isn't the problem. What the hell is wrong with this kid?" Foreman opened his mouth to start listing possible diagnoses, but House cut him off. "Dr. Chase! Any thoughts?"

Foreman frowned and glared at Chase. He was the neurologist! Why was House asking the intensivist about a coma patient? But Chase wasn't looking any happier about being put on the spot than Foreman was to have him there. In fact, Chase looked remarkably like he was about to projectile vomit all over the conference table. He was even sweating a little bit.

"Hey Chase, man, you okay?" Foreman asked.

"Yeah, you don't look so good," Cameron agreed. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," Chase said weakly. "But, uh…excuse me?" He stood up, left the room, and ducked around the corner into the men's room. He locked himself in a stall and leaned against the partition to catch his breath.

Back in the conference room, Chase's teammates were baffled. Foreman frowned and studied the white board again for some clue to what set Chase off. Cameron was halfway out of her seat and debating to herself whether or not she should go after him. House was twirling his marker in his fingers. That was not quite the reaction he'd expected. He was prepared for excitement, anger, anxiety, but nausea had not been on his list of anticipated responses.

"Uh, did we miss something?" Cameron asked.

House cleared his throat and put on his best Australian accent, which admittedly was not very good. "When he perceives a threat," he said. "The wombat will retreat to the safety of his burrow until the danger passes." He capped the marker and went after Chase. Foreman and Cameron just blinked after him.

"What the hell does that mean?"

House glanced up and down the hallway, but Chase had disappeared. Now, what on this floor would make a suitable wombat burrow? Come to think of it, did wombats even have burrows? He'd have to look that up later. In the mean time, he had a duckling to find and the men's restroom was looking like a probable nest. There, that metaphor was accurate enough, especially since House quickly spotted Chase's conspicuously large, suspiciously worn shoes under the door of the furthest stall. He picked up his cane and limped as quietly as he could without it to Chase's hiding place. Then he banged on the door with the handle as loud as he could and grinned when he heard Chase jump and curse.

"Hey now, a nice Catholic boy like yourself shouldn't be sullying his mouth with that sort of language," House scolded. Chase didn't answer him. "Will you be rejoining us any time soon, or do I need to move the conference in here? Of course, a change of atmosphere can be good for the creative process, but I really don't think flushing urinals will have the same effect as an ocean breeze. What do you think?"

"Sorry, I just lost my breath for a moment," Chase said. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Do you even have a place of your own?" House asked.

"What?"

"You know a condo, apartment, townhouse?" House rattled off. "Cause, I was just thinking that maybe the reason you're always here first is because you sleep at the hospital to be with your brother. After all, the Palliative suites do come with guest accommodations. If that's the case I was just wondering if you even bother keeping a place of your own."

"I have a unit on Tremont," Chase said. "I don't sleep here unless Ricky is on a new treatment." Last night didn't count.

"A whole three blocks away," House whistled. "Wow."

Chase yanked open the stall door and stepped out to face his interrogator. "Was there a point to this conversation?" Chase demanded. "Why the sudden interest in my life outside of work?"

"Don't you mean lack thereof?" House countered. "The extent of your social life, so far as I've heard, is that you once went to a party and met some fascinating people whom we have yet to hear from again. That's about it."

"How much do you know about Foreman's personal life?" Chase countered. "Or Cameron's? Well, okay, I guess Cameron's kind of a bad example. But still, why are you fixating on me?"

"Why don't you want your brother to wake up?" House demanded. Chase's face fell wide open before quickly twisting back up in such anger that for a moment House thought Chase was going to deck him. So of course, he had to keep going; he hadn't been able to get this much of a rise out of Chase since his first month on the job. "Is this one of those deeper psychological issues? As long as he's comatose he's dependent on you, feeding your ever increasing need for validation?"

"If I needed validation I wouldn't be working for you!" Chase snapped. "How dare you! You have no idea what Ricky and I have gone through trying to get him better, what he's missed, what I've given up!"

"Then what's the problem?" House pressed. "Why don't you want us working on him?"

"Are you mad? Of course I do!" Chase shouted. He took a step back and lowered his head. His face was completely shielded by a curtain of blond. He was heartily ashamed of his outburst, but if House was willing to take on his brother's case Chase was going to have to accept that his personal boundaries were officially decimated, suck it up, and be grateful. "I do want you to. I've wanted to ask your opinion about Ricky ever since I started here. I just…I didn't think you would. It was a bit of a shock, that's all."

"Oh," House said. Suddenly he was a lot less comfortable with this situation too. "Well, all right then. Let's get to work."

"You know I can't actively participate," Chase said, and it was clear this was an old source of frustration for him. "Not allowed to treat family in a case like this. Medical ethics and all that."

"Oh, I know," House shrugged. "You'll probably be spending most of your immediate future in the clinic."

"Under your name, I presume." Chase rolled his eyes. House waggled his eyebrows.

"Of course, we will require a detailed, honest, quite possibly invasive full medical history," House leered. "Of both the patient and his immediately available family."

"Oh, bugger," Chase practically whimpered.

"Hey, you are twins!" House said. "And you were involved in the 'accident,' which I will need more details about by the way. So, naturally, we'll need to keep you close at hand to answer all our probing, completely medically relevant questions."

Chase groaned and sulkily allowed House to drag him out of the restroom and back to the office. He was now entering hell on earth, he just knew it. Ricky had damn well better wake up this time, that's all Chase had to say about that. Yet Chase couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the right left corner of his mouth because maybe, finally, Ricky really would wake up. And that would be worth everything.


	5. Chapter 5

Chase reentered the conference room with a charming smile. He waved off Cameron's concern and Foreman's suspicion and took his seat again. House went back to the white board and picked up his marker.

"Back to work then," House said. He picked up a ridiculously thick file from behind the board and dropped it onto the table. Chase raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Technically speaking, House should have gotten his consent before even looking at his brother's file, but when had a little thing like legality stopped Dr. House? "This is our patient, children, and everything that's already been tried on him that you shouldn't waste my time with. Have a look and let's have at it."

Foreman heaved a sigh and pulled the file toward him. Cameron moved her seat closer so she could see well. Chase tried not to smile and narrowed his eyes at House who wasn't even trying to hide his mirth. This was all a little dramatic for Chase's taste, but he figured this would be dramatic in any case, so let the old bloke enjoy his theatrics.

"What the hell," Foreman complained. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"This is Chase," Cameron said impatiently, holding up the provided picture on the front page of the file.

"Yes it is," House agreed. It may not be his Chase, but it was a Chase. "So, how are we going to wake him up?"

Foreman threw up his hands. "I'm not playing your game," he said. He went to get another cup of coffee. "Let me know when we have a real case?"

"Are you in on this?" Cameron asked Chase.

"Check the name," Chase said.

"It says, Chase," Cameron said. "Really, you guys couldn't at least come up with a pseudonym?"

"The first name," Chase said.

"Killjoy!" House accused. He'd wanted to see how long it would take them to figure it out.

"Was that name-calling or a command?" Chase countered.

"Richard Chase?" Cameron read the label and frowned. She opened the file and started examining the documents more carefully. Foreman's interest was also recaptured. He stood behind her and read over her shoulder.

"You have a twin!" Foreman exclaimed.

"Yes, we have a winner!" House applauded. "And wow," he checked his watch. "It only took you four minutes to figure it out. Of course, it would have taken you four seconds if you'd actually read the name on the file. See what happens when you look at the evidence with a preconceived bias?"

"Since when do you have a twin?" Cameron said.

"I suppose that is a debatable point." House leaned his hip against the side of the table and scratched his chin pensively. "I suppose some might argue that they've been twins ever since the one fertilized egg split into two developing embryos. Then again, others might not be comfortable defining their relationship until the two bundles of joy were actually born. But if you believe in reincarnation…"

"Moving on, then," Chase cut in. "Yes, I have an identical twin. He has been in a coma since we were seventeen. And he is presently housed in the Palliative wing of this hospital. I informed Dr. House about him last night and this morning he decided to take a crack at waking him up."

"Just guessing," Foreman said. "You didn't know he was going to do this?" Chase shook his head. "Right. And he's really been out for ten years?"

"Nine years, two months, and eight days," Chase said.

"Specific," House said. He pulled up a chair of his own between Chase and Cameron. Foreman sat back down as well. "That's good. We're going to need specific, cause it's medical history time!"

"Let's start with the traumatic event," Foreman said. He grabbed a pen and a pad of paper.

"No!" House disagreed. "We need to go further back than that. Chase was also in the event in question. He woke up. The clone didn't. Therefore, the Richard must have had an underlying diathesis that Robert does not. That's what we need to find. So, Chase, start with the splitting of the egg and don't leave out any gritty, embarrassing details."

"Right," Chase sighed. "And I suddenly understand why patients lie. This is going to suck." House nodded eagerly. "Okay, relevant medical events starting from the splitting of the egg. Well, to start with…it didn't."

"What didn't what?" House asked slowly.

"The egg didn't split," Chase mumbled. He was turning a nice shade of pink. "At least not all the way."

"You mean you…" Cameron didn't get to finish her question before House barked with laughter.

"You're a Siamese twin?" he exclaimed.

"My brother and I were born conjoined, yes," Chase ground out. "It was a Xiphopagous case. We were separated at 16 months without complications."

"Do you still have the scar?" House asked. "Let me see the scar. Take your shirt off."

"No," Chase shook his head.

"If it was such a simple case," Cameron intervened. "Why did they wait so long to separate the two of you?"

"We didn't share any vital organs, but our blood supply was interconnected," Chase explained. "Ricky's heart had been doing most of the work for both of us. They had to wait until my heart got strong enough to function on it's own."

"I can't believe we never heard of this," Foreman said. "A big shot doctor like your father, you'd think your story would have made the news."

"A big shot doctor like my father has connections," Chase said. "Our surgeon was a friend of his from the same hospital. They kept it pretty quiet. There was a local story, I think, but it never went national."

"And there were no complications during the separation," Foreman double-checked.

"No complication, but there was a transplant," Chase said. "Ricky's kidneys didn't develop fully in-utero." House peaked up at his second specialty: nephrology. "Our doctor had hoped they would be healthy enough by the time we were separated, like my heart, but a year later they still weren't functioning properly. So, during the surgery they gave him one of mine. It never caused any problems thought, for either of us."

"All right." House grabbed his marker and reached for the white board over his shoulder. He wrote KIDNEY?. "Good start. Chase was born a two-headed monster and he's missing kidney. What else you got for me?"

"I'm not sure what you need," Chase said. "I mean, we were 17 when we were hit. That's a lot of history."

"Let's stick with what's basically different about you for now," Cameron said. "Then we can cover possible aggravating conditions."

Chase considered the question. He picked back up his pencil and started chewing again. He really didn't want to share anymore. If House had been amused at him being born a conjoined twin, he was going to have a field day with this. But he'd also seen the consequences of a patient's lies, so he groaned and dove back in. "Okay, there's one big difference," he confessed. "But I don't think it's relevant. I'm the one affected."

"Spill it," House ordered.

"Bugger," Chase said. "Okay, fine. Ricky and I developed as mirror twins. I have situs inversus."

"Situs inversus," Foreman repeated. He didn't recognize the term.

"His organs are backwards," House beamed. "Wow, you really are a freak!"

"It's most noticeable with my heart," Chase grumbled. "Dextocardia. It's on the right side my thorax instead of the left. All the thoracic major organs are inverted."

"This is so cool." House circled Chase and even poked him in the sides a couple times. Chase was ticklish and squirmed away. "I've never had a dextocardia patient."

"And you still don't." Chase pushed his hand away when House tried to poke him again. "Ricky - who is the patient - has normal organ placement."

"Well, you are chromosomally identical," House argued. "Examining you could provide some insight…"

"You've got a drawer full of toys in your office," Chase said. "Go play with one of them."

"You know, I don't have to take this case," House pouted. "If you're going to be difficult…" Foreman and Cameron are both staring at him in open-mouthed, furrowed-browed horror and disgust. Using a comatose twin to blackmail a member of his own team struck them as a new low, even for Dr. House.

"Tell you what," Chase challenged. "The day you get my brother awake and well, I'll update my records citing you as my doctor and then you can experiment on me to your black little heart's content. Short of cutting me open or otherwise endangering my well-being, of course."

House grinned maniacally. Getting the chance to examine someone with situs inversus was not an opportunity to be passed up lightly, even if the kidneys weren't affected. The fact that Chase was obviously kidding didn't strike him as particularly consequential.

"Deal," he accepted. Chase rolled his eyes and shrugged to Foreman and Cameron who were both staring at him. "All right, people, this case just became important. So back to the history lesson. What happened after you two were split?"

"Just the usual stuff," Chase shrugged. "We both had all the normal childhood illnesses and vaccines. We were pretty active, so there was a good number of bumps and bruises. We'd each had at least one concussion before the accident. It should be in his file."

"I already know what's in his file," House said. "And so will these two if they ever manage to get past the picture. We need to know what's not in the file."

"I don't suppose you'd let us look over your medical records," Foreman suggested. House raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, you said we're looking for differences! If Chase is willing, maybe we could compare and…"

"I'll set it up," Chase agreed. He rushed from the room to gather up his file from PPTH and to make a call back to Melbourne to have his pediatric history faxed to him. It would take a few hours, so he called up to the conference room and told them they should go ahead and look over Ricky's files or else move on to something else. He'd be in the clinic.

Back in the office, Foreman was complaining while they went over Ricky's file. "You could have warned us, you know," he said.

"You could have checked the first name instead of making stupid assumptions," House countered.

"Wow," Cameron sighed. "Chase really wasn't pulling any punches on this case, was he? Have you seen some of the names in this file? Foreman, if you can figure this out you'll be outdoing some of the top neurologists in the world!"

"What makes you think Foreman's going to solve it?" House said. "Maybe the problem isn't neurological. Chase already seems to have those bases covered."

"Why did you even take this case, anyway?" Foreman asked.

"It's interesting," House said.

"It's Chase's brother," Foreman argued. "That's awful personal, don't you think?"

"Not for me," House shrugged. "And, officially speaking, Chase isn't working this case. He's providing relevant medical history, just like any patient's family would be asked to do."

"Did he ask you to do this?" Cameron asked.

"No," House said. "But, as long as he's not allowed to work on our present case, then whenever we're actually treating and not just brainstorming he needs to find something else to do. Right now, that something else is working the clinic, which he'd better be remembering to do under my name. So I get to work an interesting case, and avoid the cesspool, and Chase gets his twin back. Everybody wins."

"Assuming we can wake him up," Foreman said. "Chase has tried practically everything."

"Practically, nothing," Chase said as he entered the office, carrying copies of all his medical records. "I have tried everything." He dropped his files down on the table with a heavy thud. "Here you go. I'll be over here if you have any questions." He took a seat by the window and resumed his crossword. The rest of the team dug in.

Half an hour later, they'd set up a system. They went in order, starting from birth, and read off each illness, injury, and treatment the twins had. If one boy had something the other didn't it was listed on a designated pad of paper under his name.

"Respiratory Syncycial Virus age two," Cameron read out of Ricky's file. "Pretty common for multiple births."

"Check," Foreman confirmed that it was also in Robert's. "But in Robert's case," Chase cringed. They'd started using his first name to avoid confusion and it really bothered him. "It advanced into infant asthma."

"No asthma for Richard," Cameron said. House wrote it down.

"It cleared up by the time I was eight," Chase clarified. "I used an inhaler until then. It was prescribed when I was four, I think." House wrote that down too. They continued and soon made their way to mid-childhood

"Richard had a mild case of bacterial meningitis when he was eleven," Cameron announced. Chase remembered that. They wouldn't let him into his brother's hospital room until they'd determined that it wasn't viral. His dad had gotten really mad when he kicked the attending doctor. "Treated with antibiotics for ten days."

"Negative for meningitis," Foreman said excitedly. It was added to the list. "Robert is allergic to codeine."

Another few hours passed and the list grew.

"Okay, that's everything before the accident," Foreman finally announced, immensely relieved.

"That means it's story time," House said. "Chase, let's have it."

"Ricky and I were standing at a bus stop a couple of miles from our house," Chase said mechanically. "One of those covered shelters to keep the rain off, but it wasn't raining that day. A car came down the road, speeding pretty badly. The driver lost control, swerved, and jumped the curb. They hit the wall of the hutch, went right through it. We tried to get out of the way, but we were blocked in. The car hit us and we were thrown into the air. We hit the other wall and landed on top of the hood of the car. Lucky, really. If we'd been pinned we probably wouldn't have made it. Our injuries are listed in our files. I do remember that Ricky's spleen was removed, but mine didn't have to be." This was added to the Richard list. "We both sustained massive head trauma. I woke up in two weeks and Ricky never did."

"That's it?" House said.

"Yeah," Chase murmured. "That's it."

It was getting pretty late, but House didn't want to stop. He grilled Foreman and Cameron for possible tests and treatments, which he then systematically shot down, either because he disagreed or more often because it had already been tried.

"Maybe you should just make a list of everything that's already been done and go from there," Chase suggested. "It'd probably be faster. I've tried everything you're coming up with."

"You know, I heard of this old sort of folksy remedy once in a history of medicine class," Cameron said. "You take a bucket of ice and dump it on the person's chest."

"Cause torturing helpless coma victims is funny?" House guessed. "Well, actually…"

"It's supposed to shock them into waking up," Cameron snapped. "I know it's a long shot, but maybe…"

"Did it every week for two months," Chase piped up from the corner. "Didn't work."

"Oh, for the love of…Are you serious?" Foreman whipped around in his seat.

"I told you I've tried everything," Chase shrugged.

"All right, that's enough for now," House conceded. "You two, go over which treatments have been tried so far so you don't waste anymore time tomorrow." Foreman and Cameron took Ricky's file and, grumbling the whole way, went to make copies. Chase stretched his arms and back and got to his feet. He'd go check on Ricky and then head on home.

"Thanks again," Chase said to House, who was examining his notes on the white board. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What happened to the driver?" House called after him before he made it out the door. "Were they hurt in the crash too?"

"Not really," Chase answered, but he didn't turn around. "Airbags deployed. Just a bad case of whiplash and a few scratches. The crash didn't hurt them."

"Were they ever charged with anything?" House pushed. "Reckless endangerment, aggravated assault…"

"No," Chase said sharply. "Nothing. Goodnight Dr. House."

"Uh-huh," House muttered. Once Chase was gone he took the chewed-up pencil he'd left behind and added to the Robert list: DRIVER?

Author's Note: From this point on all medical terms and practices should be taken as pure fiction and without an accurate base in reality.


	6. Chapter 6

Unfortunately, Ricky's case had to be put on the back burner for a couple days when a new case presented itself. A fourteen-year-old boy was brought in by his mother and father. His symptoms included muscle-loss, excessive thirst, photophobia, and failing vision. Once he was admitted a urine sample revealed that his kidneys weren't functioning properly either.

"The eyes could be a separate condition," Foreman suggested on day two after an initial failure to account for it. "Hell, maybe the kid just needs glasses."

"Yes, let's ignore the primary symptom that the patient was brought in for because it's inconvenient," House said.

"Could be a vitamin deficiency," Cameron said. "If the kidneys aren't filtering correctly, maybe he's not getting the nutrients he needs."

"The kidneys aren't functioning because the kid isn't getting the nutrients he needs because his kidneys aren't functioning?" House said. "How can that kind of circular logic not leave you dizzy?"

"What about poisoning?" Chase contributed. "Exposure to certain pesticides could account for most of his symptoms."

"Not muscle deterioration," House said. "Once again, people, we do not ignore a symptom just because it doesn't fit. Those are the symptoms we beat the hell out of until we find out where they came from. So go find out."

House sent them all to test their respective theories. The kid's kidney failure wasn't severe enough to pose any life-threatening danger yet, so he settled down with another set of documents. Since Chase had given up his medical history, it was easy for House to get a hold of his personnel file as well.

Meanwhile, Chase was in the lab trying to give the boy's blood work his full attention. He'd told himself time and again that he wouldn't let the teams' involvement in Ricky's case interfere with his work, but he couldn't help it. In fact, he was disgusted to realize that part of him almost resented this patient. He kept scolding himself to remember that he was at Princeton-Plainsboro as a doctor, not a family member. His patient had to take priority.

Foreman entered the lab after having struck out on the MRI. He hadn't expected to find anything, but it might have offered some insight to the vision problems. He came up behind Chase and glanced at the results over his shoulder.

"Anything?" he asked.

"Look at this," Chase said. He pointed to a data set about the patient's white-count. "That's low, isn't it?"

"You thinking HIV or something?" Foreman asked skeptically. "I guess an opportunistic infection could do damage to his organs."

"Just the kidneys and eyes?" Chase said. "I don't think so. He'd be exhibiting other symptoms, at least a fever." He gathered up the rest of his results. "Let's head back. Maybe Cameron had better luck."

As it turned out, Cameron did have relevant results to contribute, but they could hardly be called lucky. The boy's kidneys were deteriorating slowly but steadily. He had Fanconi's Syndrome, which accounted for a loss of nutrients and minerals through the urine.

"Still just a symptom," House pushed.

"I've amped up his fluids," Cameron said. "The nutrient deficiency is the real danger right now. His other organs are starting to show distress."

"Which organs?" House demanded. "There's a lot of stuff floating around in there."

"Right now it's the pancreas, mostly," Cameron specified. She flushed a bit under House's reproach. "Also the thyroid, and there's some swelling in his throat."

"Pancreas?" Chase's eyes lit up.

"You got something, Chase?" Foreman asked. Chase tried not to take offense at how surprised he sounded.

"I might," Chase said hesitantly. This did sound familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place it. He went back over his results, looking for something that might jog his memory, but he was coming up empty. "I know this," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, this isn't one of your word-searches, Chase," House said impatiently. "Tip-of-the-tongue doesn't count."

Chase ignored him. Instead, he walked out of the conference and back down to the lab to run a few more tests on the kid's blood sample. This was just too familiar. The answer was in the blood, he knew it. He worked through his lunch break and annoyed the hell out of two technicians, but finally he found what he was looking for. He rushed back to the office where the rest of the team had finished their lunch breaks and resumed the differential.

"Well, look whose back," House said. "Nice of you to join us."

"Cystinosis," Chase said.

"What?" Cameron said. She glanced up at the board; cystinosis wasn't up yet. But House had curled his lips into his mouth and was trying not to appear impressed.

"And how do you figure that?" House asked.

"I remembered a case I observed early in residency," Chase explained. "It was an older patient, later onset, different symptoms. The woman had eye trouble and diabetes from pancreatic problems. But it's caused by the same thing." He handed House his results. "There's a build up of cystine in the kid's cells. It's already starting to deposit in his marrow; that's why his white count is down. I sent the blood to the Genetics lab to double-check for the faulty gene, but it fits."

"Yes it does," House agreed. "Cameron, start the kid on cysteamine, pill and drops, and write him up a prescription. Chase, go talk to the parents and let them know what's going on."

"He's probably going to need a transplant someday," Foreman pointed out. "His kidneys are already taking the brunt."

"So he joins the list," House shrugged. It wasn't a terrible tragedy yet. They'd caught it soon enough. The kid had time.

The boy's parents weren't nearly so cavalier when Chase told them their son's condition was genetic and might require a transplant in the future. When they found out the condition was genetic, a whole new layer of guilt was added to their distress. Chase tried to calm them down. He explained that the boy would be put on a waiting list, but assured them that the medication and dietary recommendations would forestall full kidney failure for quite some time. It might even prevent the need for a transplant at all. Their child was not going to die.

Chase left the parents with a pamphlet outlining their son's condition and went to the cafeteria for a late bite. All in all, he was feeling pretty good. He'd been able to put aside his personal feelings and keep up with his job. The patient was on his way to a full recovery. Maybe House would even be willing to spend the rest of the afternoon on Ricky's case if Chase covered his clinic hours. Unfortunately Chase's ruminations and his snack were interrupted when House fell into a seat beside him and stole his butterscotch pudding.

"Do you have any idea what goes into this crap?" House scolded him.

"Don't know, don't care," Chase said. "I like butterscotch pudding. Gimme." He tried to take back the bowl, but House rapped his knuckles with the spoon.Chase scowled and took a bite of his tuna melt instead.

"Nice performance back there," House allowed. "Once again, you stun and amaze with your ability to regurgitate the achievement of others."

"I have to stop telling you where I get my ideas," Chase scoffed. "Honestly, the way you talk you'd think you discovered every disease you come across instead of just diagnosing them."

House glowered at the suggestion that he 'just' diagnosed. Chase saw the subtle shift in expression and quickly busied himself with opening his bottle of water and taking a long drink. House would get around to telling him what he wanted eventually.

"So, while you were playing in the lab, I was checking into a few things," House said. He produced two documents from his jacket pocket. One he slid across the table to Chase. "According to this, you and you-two were hit in late June, correct?" Chase nodded. "Uh-huh." House perused the second document. "And according to this, your mother died about a month later in July. Also correct?"

Chase stopped eating. "Yes," he admitted. There was no point denying it, House had the information from his personnel file right in front of him. Someone really should talk to Cuddy about increasing security between House and other people's privacy.

"Hmm, interesting," House said. "How'd she die?"

"That's enough," Chase said coolly. With his appetite quite effectively ruined, he gathered up his tray and pushed away from the table. He threw out the remains of his lunch and retreated to the clinic.

"Interesting," House repeated. He tucked in and finished the rest of Chase's pudding.


	7. Chapter 7

The clinic had an influx of flu patients, providing Chase with an effective if somewhat tedious means of making himself unavailable for the rest of the afternoon. After the clinic closed, he went upstairs.

"Hey, Ricky," Chase greeted. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and brushed back his brother's hair. "You need another haircut. You're supposed to be the cute one, remember?" Ricky's monitors beeped his response. "So, House hasn't lost interest in us yet. I say us because at the moment he seems just as interested in me as he is in you. Ah, no worries. I'll find a way to keep him focused." He picked up his brother's hand. "It's going to be better soon, I know it. We just got to hold on a little longer."

"That's one of the things I like about you Dr. Chase," said one of Ricky's two nurses, Andrea. Chase jumped a little; he hadn't heard her come in. She was there to wash Ricky down and reposition him to avoid bedsores. "A lot of people think they can't hear us."

"He can hear me."

Chase helped Nurse Andrea change Ricky's bedding and various bags or tubes. After she was gone, he stayed for another hour, watching TV and describing the action between the dialogue for Ricky's benefit. Finally, it got to the time where Chase had to pick between going home or staying with Ricky overnight. He kissed Ricky's forehead, said goodnight, and left for his apartment. When he got to the elevator he was irritated, but somehow not entirely surprised to find House already standing in the car.

"How long have you been waiting in there?" Chase asked.

"I want to see this supposed apartment of yours," House demanded. "Cause I think you're lying. I don't believe this place exists."

"You're not invited," Chase said as he stepped in and pushed the lobby button.

"I know your imaginary address," House reminded him.

"I only live a few blocks away," Chase reminded him. "Unless there's rain or snow, I walk." He glanced pointedly at House's cane.

"We'll take my bike," House said.

"Like hell," Chase refused.

"What's the matter, you scared?"

"Of being in close proximity to you?" Chase took a wide step away from House so they were on opposite sides of the elevator. "Too right."

"Why?" House huffed. "Worried your virtue won't be safe with me?" He fluttered his eyelashes. "I promise to behave. I won't even ask you to show me your bedroom. Assuming it exists."

The elevator stopped and the two men walked out of the building. Chase turned left to head for home, but House grabbed his arm and pulled him right toward the parking lot where House's bike was parked in the closest handicap spot.

"If I don't let you over tonight, you're just going to show up at my door tomorrow, aren't you?" Chase said.

"No!" House pretended to be affronted. "I'll show up later tonight, around three a.m., so I can ruin your REM."

House tossed the helmet and Chase caught it. He rolled his eyes and climbed onto the bike behind House with his arms wrapped around his waist. When House took the turns faster and lower than was necessary, Chase forced himself not to tighten his grip but went ahead and clenched his eyes. When they reached his building, Chase got off very quickly and chucked the helmet back at his boss.

"Now," House said, after he was satisfied his bike was secure. "Let's see this infamous apartment."

"You are crossing so many lines right now," Chase grumbled, but he knew House didn't give a damn so he led him inside. Chase considered taking the stairs to his unit and losing House that way, but doing so would decrease his comfort at work exponentially so they took the elevator up to the fourth floor. They reached his door, and Chase put his key in the lock, but he didn't turn it. He looked over his shoulder at House, hoping he'd be satisfied and go away. But House was like a canine: eye-contact was regarded as a challenge. He smirked and pointed at the door. Chase scowled and opened it.

"Go ahead," Chase said with resignation. "Start the inspection."

It was an open loft, two stories. There was bamboo flooring across the entire space and, much to House's amusement, dark hickory rafters lining the cathedral style ceiling. To the right was the kitchen with granite counter tops, steel appliances, and a large rolodex of take-out menus readily accessible. Beyond it was a dining nook. The black iron and glass table was small, with only three chairs around it. That wall was taken up by three very tall windows cut out of the exposed brick.

The living room was to the left, with an oxblood leather sofa, two matching rocking chairs, and an iron and glass coffee table. An iron entertainment center held a flat screen television, DVD player, stereo, and an assortment of movies and CDs. On the edge of the space there was a steel staircase leading up to the lofted half-floor where House presumed Chase's bedroom and bathroom probably were. In the cubby formed under the eaves was a black laminate desk with a laptop.

It was a nice apartment, House had to admit. But it was like stepping into a model. There was no character. There were no photographs, no personal items, nothing to identify this place as belonging to Chase. It was as sterile as the hospital they worked in.

"Satisfied?" Chase said. "Now you know I'm not homeless and squatting in the hospital."

This mock-up apartment did not qualify as a real home, in House's opinion, but he wasn't ready to draw conclusions and move on just yet. "Your hospitality is spectacular," he drawled. "Don't I even warrant a drink or something?"

"I don't want you here, remember?" Chase said. Even so he went to his refrigerator. "What do you want?"

"Beer's fine," House said. "Whatever you have."

"I don't have," Chase said. "I don't drink."

Well, that was as good a segue as any, House decided. He made himself comfortable on the couch. "So, you buy into the theory that alcoholism is genetic," he said.

"Why do you want to go into this?" Chase demanded. He was leaning on the island of his kitchen with two bottles of soda water next to him. "What can you possibly get out of it? I mean, I appreciate your help with Ricky, but damn it House! Why do you always have to take everything too far? How many times have I asked you not to get involved in my private life?"

"Probably as many times as I've ignored your requests to stay out of your private life," House shrugged. "Which begs the question, why do you keep asking? And you're right; I am on your brother's case. So I'm going to be in your life for a while, whether you want me there or not."

Chase sighed and sat down in his rocker. He handed House a soda water and took a gulp of his own. "It doesn't matter now," Chase insisted. "Don't you think sometimes it's better to just, you know, let it go?"

"If you were actually doing that," House said. "Sure. Letting go has advantages. But you're not letting go. You're festering."

"Only because you won't leave this alone," Chase disagreed.

"Oh, come on!" House said. "You're a Catholic. A bit of an expatriate from the Vatican, maybe, but still…Confession is good for the soul, right? Tell me your sins."

"The idea of you as a priest has to be one of the most horrifying prospects ever to enter my mind," Chase mumbled.

"You want me to guess?" House said. "Okay, fine. Uhhh, you don't want to talk about it because Mommy's drinking got worse because of your accident, leading to her death, and you feel guilty. Am I close?" He really wanted to be right, because his other hunch was too terrible. He didn't want that to have happened to Chase. But he had to ask. "Chase who was driving that car?"

"They told me she didn't mean to hit us," Chase said. He spoke in the same tone he used at work when he had to give a patient's family bad news or explain a risky procedure: even, steady, and without emotion. "Our parents were really young when Jakub was born. Our mother had been training as a ballet dancer, but she had to quit when she got pregnant. She always wanted to go back to it someday, be a real diva. But then Ricky and I came along – I think we can safely assume that wasn't part of the plan – and that was it. She was done."

"You think you were the reason she drank?" House asked.

"No," Chase scoffed. "But she did. She blamed the whole family for ruining her life. Jakub wouldn't put up with it; he was out of there by the time we were two. I can't remember seeing until we were seven. I don't think I even knew who he was at first. Eventually our dad gave up too. Then it was just me and Ricky there with her."

"Until?" House pressed.

"We graduated secondary," Chase said. "She found us researching universities and had an absolute fit. Screaming about what ingrates we were, how we were abandoning her, on and on. We decided to go to our father in Perth, see if he'd help. We were waiting for a bus to take us to the airport when she came after us. When I woke up, Jakub and our father were there. They said she was drunk, that she didn't mean to do it. She never came to see us, but she did make it to the hospital. Two days after I woke up, she chugged every ounce of alcohol in the house and chased it with a bottle of Robitussin."

"Wait," House frowned. "I thought your mother's died of liver failure."

"Yeah, Dad had to pull a few strings to get that one through," Chase smirked. "You see, Mum was a Catholic."

"And Catholics who commit suicide don't get a Christian burial," House said. Chase raised his bottle to him. "I guess she couldn't live with what she did to you."

"Or she meant to kill us and when it didn't work she killed herself instead," Chase suggested. His bluntness shocked even House into silence. "Yeah, I like the first option better too. And there you have it, Father House. That's my family. That's what happened. Puzzle solved."

"Okay," House said. "Well, don't you feel better now?"

"No," Chase said. "But I'm sure you do." He got up and went upstairs. "Lock the door on your way out, won't you?"


	8. Chapter 8

Things became very tense in diagnostics after that. Chase tried to re-establish some personal boundaries at work by spending free-time between cases in ICU or the clinic and never speaking to House unless absolutely necessary. House was equally determined to thwart Chase's efforts by calling him back from the clinic or ICU – usually using a made-upconsult as an excuse if he even bothered with an excuse – and pestering him to talk. However, Chase had a talent for finding things to genuinely keep him busy and out of reach. And House's dedication to the mystery of Richard Chase left him with little time to badger the elusive Aussie.

"Maybe I should make him sit in the corner for a time-out until he quits sulking," House complained to Wilson two weeks into his fight with Chase. They were in his office tossing the oversized tennis ball back and forth. "I think that's an appropriate response to something as juvenile as giving his boss the silent treatment, don't you?"

"What'd you do to piss him off, anyway?" Wilson asked. House sneered and started tossing the ball to himself. Wilson just chuckled at the exclusion. "I don't think I've ever seen Chase at odds with you like this. Even with the Vogler drama, remorse drove him back to you within days. We're going on weeks this time, and he's not the one who feels guilty. It must have been pretty bad."

Not as bad as it would be if House blabbed his findings around the hospital, though, so he didn't tell Wilson or anyone else what he'd gleaned from Chase. Instead, he focused on the other Chase mystery. If he could wake the twin than Chase would go back to being gratefully beholden to him and House could go back to getting anything he wanted from his Intensivist. So Foreman spent most of his time trying not to get freaked out as he ran test after neurological test on his co-worker's double and Cameron was kept busy researching various foreign agents that had been known to cause comas. And House wracked his brain for any new, old, or radical explanation he could come up with. Unfortunately, nothing was forthcoming. It didn't help that House kept glancing at his calendar, becoming painfully moreaware with each day that it was almost three months since Rowan Chase's visit. He had a feeling that soon it was going to take a lot more than a wake-up call for Ricky to get Chase to let him off the hook.

Wilson left House to watch General Hospital in peace, but that plan was interruptedwhen a man wondered in. He was middle-aged, in his forties perhaps. He wore a black cashmere sweater and gray slacks. He was cleanly bald with heavy eyebrows over chocolate eyes, a broad nose, and a thin mouth. He stood tall and straight even with his thumbs hooked in his pockets. He seemed to be in no hurry to explain his presence, content to wander and examine House's domain.

"Are you lost?" House said. "Or do you actually have a reason for interrupting me? And by reason, I mean a good one."

"Yes," the man said absently. He wasn't even looking at House. House instantly disliked this man and looked forward to letting him know it. "I'm looking for Doctor Robert Chase," he said. Once his underling was mentioned, House quickly recognized the accent. "I was told I'd find him in this department. This is Diagnostics, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," House said warily. This man could only be one person and he could only be there for a limited number of reasons, none of them good. Maybe he should just throw him out? But he had no grounds to remove him from the hospital– he wasn't bothering any patients – so he'd probably just continue searching until some idiot led him straight to Chase. "But as you can see, Chase isn't here right now."

"Hmm," the man nodded. He looked Doctor House over appraisingly. "You're Dr. House, aren't you?"

"That's me," House said.

"It's very important that I speak to Robert," the man insisted. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"Actually," House shut his still playing television back in a drawer. "He's with our most recent patient right now." He picked up a random file, probably full of billing statements he was supposed to do last year, and pretended to examine the contents with concern. "So he can't really be socializing."

"I assure you this is not a social call," the man said. He was politely menacing.

"Yeah," House said. "Well, I was just heading up there anyway. Why don't you wait here and I'll see when Chase is going to be available."

"Thank you," the man smiled and took a seat in the chair in front of House's desk. House forced a tight smile back and hurried out of the room to look for Chase.

He found him in the NICU doing routine checks on all the infants. Chase seemed oddly at ease in the usually hectic environment. House would have to make sure Chase spent less time down here in the future. He didn't want his Fellow getting complacent or too attached to a position away from him. That could lead to contentment, and that was unacceptable.

"You do know you work for me, right?" House said. He stood behind Chase and watched him work over his shoulder. "You're not supposed to be wasting all your time down here."

"Do we have a case?" Chase asked without turning around.

"Not as of five minutes ago," House said. "But I'm sure we could if we tried real hard."

"Than you're the one wasting my time," Chase said. He moved on to the next basinet. "Page me when you find someone worthy of your interest, and I'm all yours."

"Great," House drawled. He followed Chase around, watching him work, until he finished checking over the last baby. "So…what's your brother look like?"

"Not funny," Chase said.

"Not the brother I meant," House countered.

Chase paled three shades and spun around. His expression begged the seasoned doctor to take back what he'd said, make it go away, and House regretted his inability to do it. Chase took a shuddering breath and pulled himself together. Being on the opposite side of the planet from his family had given him a feeling of freedom and security. Those feelings were crumbling around his feet now. But he could handle this. He wasn't going to fall apart, especially not in front of Dr. House, not again.

"So he's here?" Chase asked. House nodded. "Office?" Another nod. "Right. Better get this over with then. Thank you."

House and Chase rode up to Diagnostics together. Either it didn't occur to House that Chase might want a little privacy for his reunion, or he didn't care. When they reached the office, however, Chase stopped him at the door.

"This won't take long," Chase said.

"Oh, don't worry," House said. "I have a longer attention span for this sort of thing. TV drama takes at least an hour." Chase didn't smile or move. House rolled his eyes and sighed in a harried manner. "You've got five minutes."

As he watched House walk away, Chase had to bite his tongue to keep from calling him back. The impulse to cross himself also flashed in his mind. He hadn't seen this face in years, and family reunions hadn't been going very well for him lately. But Chase didn't call for help from House or Heaven; he took a deep breath, ran a nervous hand through his hair, and stepped into the office.

"Hello Jakub," Chase greeted his brother the same way he'd greet a standard clinic patient.

"Robbie," Jakub smiled broadly. He got out of his chair and came for a closer look of his little brother. It looked like he wanted a hug from him too, but Chase stepped back. "You look great."

"You seem to be doing well too," Chase said. "I heard you made partner at Goldstone. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Jakub said. "We're branching out now, into biotech engineering, in case you're interested."

"I'll keep an eye on the medical journals," Chase said. "So, are we caught up enough for you to get to the point yet? I only have about three more minutes, you see."

"You're busy; I understand," Jakub said. "But I didn't spend eighteen hours on a plane for three minutes, Robert. You and I need to have a real talk."

"With or without lawyers?" Chase asked. Jakub frowned and folded his arms. Chase barely resisted the compulsion to look at the floor like the chastened little boy he felt like. Jakub was so like their father. "Leave your number. I'll call you when I'm available."

"Today, Robbie," Jakub warned. He handed Chase a business card with his cell phone number circled and his hotel number scrawled on the back. Chase put it in his lab coat pocket. Jakub hesitated. He hadn't seen so much as a picture of his little brother since he entered medical school, and he didn't want want to leave so soon. He approached Chase again, but apparently their time was up because Foreman popped his head in.

"Chase, House is looking for you," he informed them. He glanced at Jakub curiously.

"We'll talk soon," Jakub said. Chase nodded, but he didn't relax until Jakub was out of the office and in an elevator.

"Who was that?" Foreman asked.

"No one," Chase said. Foreman raised an eyebrow to show his skepticism, but let it go with a shrug. Chase rubbed his fingers over the embossed writing on the card in his pocket. First Rowan, now Jakub. Why the hell was his family suddenly so keen on migrating to Jersey?


	9. Chapter 9

After work, Chase went home to shower. He checked his email, paid a couple bills, anything he could think of to put off calling his brother. Unfortunately, Chase's life was not being very cooperative, and he soon ran out of distractions. He also wasn't foolish enough to believe that having an unlisted number and address would stop Jakub from tracking him down, so he gave in and dialed.

Jakub had made a late reservation for them in a restaurant that Chase could never afford to eat at. He offered to pick him up, but Chase didn't want to be trapped if he and Jakub started fighting, so instead they met there. The hostess seated them at a booth in a secluded corner.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" Jakub started the small talk while they waited for their meal.

"Not right now," Chase shook his head. He'd kind of shied away from the dating scene after a few strange encounters with a banker who liked fire a bit too much. "What about you? Have you spoken to Kathleen at all?"

Kathleen was Jakub's ex-wife. They'd been married seven years before they split up, not long after Chase left Australia. Chase hadn't gotten to know her very well; the first time he met her was at the wedding. But he'd liked her.

"No," Jakub shook his head. "Not lately."

"Someone new?"

"No one serious," Jakub said. Of course, he frequently had one woman or another on his arm at some function or gathering, but no one he saw regularly.

Their entrees arrived and the conversation paused for a while as they ate. A Greek sirloin for Chase, and roast duck for Jakub. Once the chewing slowed down and their stomachs were a bit fuller, Jakub segued into the heart of the matter.

"How's Ricky?" he asked. "Any change?"

"He's still stable," Chase said. "No ventilator or any life-support, other than feeding. Dr. House has taken on his case!"

"He's not a neurologist," Jakub frowned.

"No, but he's got one working for him," Chase shrugged. "Besides, no neurologist has been able to tell us much of anything. But when it comes to finding answers while everyone else is still scrambling for the questions, House is the best. I'm very hopeful."

"Robert, you've been holding out hope for a long time," Jakub said. "Look, I love Ricky too. You know that." Chase nodded and pushed his leftovers around with his fork. "Nothing would make me happier than to have him wake up. But sometimes there just isn't an answer to find, Robert."

"Jakub, Ricky isn't dying," Chase said. "And as long as he's not giving up, I won't either."

"I don't want to argue with you about this now," Jakub said. He dabbed his mouth unnecessarily with the linen napkin and set it back neatly across his lap. "That's not why I came." He took a long drink of his wine. "Robert, when Dad came to see you a couple months ago, did you talk much?"

"Not as much as I would have liked us to," Chase said. "We both got pretty caught up in the case. You know he consulted for us, right?"

"Yes, he told me," Jakub nodded. Another sip of wine. "Did he tell you he had cancer?"

"What?" Chase dropped his fork with a clatter. "No! He didn't say a word. Is he…How's he doing?"

"I didn't think so," Jakub sighed. "Robbie, I'm sorry. He should have told you. But he didn't want to burden you anymore than you already are."

"Jakub?" Chase whimpered. "Is Dad…"

"He passed away four days ago, Robbie," Jakub said. He gripped his brother's forearm across the table. "The lawyer was going to call you right away, but I didn't want you to hear it over the phone."

Four days ago. His father had been dead for four days and he hadn't known. His father had been dying for who knows how long, and nobody told him! What had he been doing four days ago? A repeat patient had come back to the clinic that day, Kayla. She had multiple, life-threatening ulcers. Chase had aided in emergency surgery to fix them just in time to keep them from perforating. It had been a touchy procedure, lots of bleeding. But her condition wasn't why Chase remembered her so clearly. The first time he'd seen Kayla, he'd built a rapport with her based on mutual estrangement from their fathers. And he treated her on the same day his father died. The irony knocked the wind out of him.

Jakub kept on talking about how he'd flown out to tell Chase immediately after the funeral. He hadn't even been given the chance to attend his own father's funeral! Apparently the Will had been read as well. Chase would be receiving an official document of some kind informing him of his father's last wishes for him.

But Chase remembered his father's last wish with him. He'd wished that they had time for a drink together before his flight. He'd asked Chase if he'd be coming home soon. In the autumn, Chase had told him. Maybe he even would have gone through with it. But Rowan had to know that wasn't soon enough. When he'd offered his hand, did he know it was the last time they would speak? Chase once told House that he'd given his father enough hugs. What a stupid thing to say.

"Robert," Jakub murmured. "I know I've caught you off guard here, but you need to listen now. It's important. Dad made a recommendation in his Will."

"Recommendation?" Chase frowned. "I don't get it."

"It was an addendum, added a couple months before he died," Jakub said. Right after he'd visited Robert, actually, but Jakub felt that was too specific. "He officially backed my petition to take Ricky of life-support."

"He's not on life-support!" Chase exclaimed. The dining room got a bit quieter around them. "He's not vegetative. He's…"

"Robert, you're missing the point," Jakub sighed.

"No, I'm not," Chase argued. "I don't care what Dad says. I'm Ricky's legal custodian, not him. And not you!"

"My attorney already cited Dad's support in his latest appeal," Jakub said. He was watching the wine swirl in his glass, but in the reflection he could see the sheen to Chase's eyes and he flinched. "The judge won't disregard the opinion of Ricky's father, not to mention a renowned doctor."

"Why can't you just leave us alone?" Chase pleaded. He knew Jakub was right. He'd been floundering in their legal battle for a while now; their father's last wishes would be the final straw. "He's going to get better soon! We'd be fine if you'd just leave us alone."

"Not this time, Robbie," Jakub shook his head.

Chase grabbed his jacket and tore out of the restaurant. Jakub called after him, but Chase ran straight for his car without looking back. He sped back to his apartment, barely avoiding two collisions on the way. He called his lawyer immediately and filled him in on the problem. The attorney tried to reassure Chase, but wasn't very optimistic. As soon as he got off the phone, Chase packed a quick overnight bag and drove back to the hospital to spend the rest of the night guarding his twin.

He overslept into the next morning and came running into the conference room with his hair still wet from the locker room shower. House raised his eyebrows and leered at him.

"Do we have a new case?" Chase asked.

"Not yet," Cameron said. "Late start this morning?"

"What about Ricky?" Chase asked. "Is there anything new on Ricky?"

Ever since they'd taken the case last month, Chase had been surprisingly well-behaved. He never nagged them for progress. He treated patients tolerantly and without resentment. In fact, Chase was so patient Foreman and Cameron both felt a bit guilty for not being able to deliver much information or improvement.

"Chase, your brother's condition is very complicated," Foreman began his standard neurologist 'the brain is a very complex organ' speech. "It's going to take some time before we can…"

"No, we're out of time!" Chase cried. "I need something now!"

"Has there been a change in his condition?" Foreman asked. "We weren't notified."

"No," Chase shook his head. "Ricky's the same, but…"

"Oh shit," House groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. He knew Big Brother Jakub coming to town couldn't be a good thing. "What did he do?"

Chase tried to stammer out a reply, but he just started shaking. He'd been so exhausted when he reached Ricky last night that he'd collapsed without even pulling back the blankets. Now he had to explain to everyone what had happened, but he could barely comprehend it himself. His father was dead and buried. His estranged older brother was in town, trying to euthanize his twin. He was having trouble breathing; his skin felt clammy.

House watched as Chase dissolved into a nervous breakdown and formed a pretty good guess as to what had happened. When their colleague started swaying on his feet, Cameron and Foreman each grabbed an arm and helped him to the lounge chair in House's office. House waited until they got him settled then closed the blinds and ordered them to leave.

"What?" Cameron snapped. She was kneeling beside Chase, trying to feel his pulse, but he kept waving her away.

"Get out," House repeated.

Cameron glowered and crossed her arms. She looked to Foreman for support, but he was all too grateful for the excuse to leave and already on his way out. Cameron harrumphed and stalked after him. House shut and locked the door behind her. Then he sat in his own chair and waited for Chase to get a hold of himself.

"Are you done?" House asked once Chase had been still for a while. Chase nodded. "Good. You know, you better not make a habit of that. Intensivists are supposed to be cool under pressure." Instead of giving the glare House was hoping for, Chase wilted a bit more under his boss's reprimand. "What happened?"

"It's my father," Chase murmured. House grimaced. "He's dead. Four days ago. Jakub said he didn't want me to hear over the phone. I've missed his funeral!"

"That's too bad," House said sincerely.

"He agreed with Jakub," Chase said. "He added it to his Will. He said Jakub should take over as Ricky's proxy and pull the plug. My lawyer said…"

Son of a bitch! Rowan Chase would be heralded as a genius in the medical community for years to come, but short of outright deliberate abusers House was sure he'd be hard-pressed to find a more incompetent father. Of course, this was the perfect way to help his youngest son deal with his grief! First, we won't tell him we're dying so he can be broadsided with the news. Then, just in case that doesn't make him crack up, we'll arrange for his beloved twin brother to kick off right around the same time. Perfect!

"Okay, don't panic," House said. "You can still fight this. You said he added this statement to his Will. You can totally challenge it. Cancer patients have skyrocketed rates of clinical depression. Maybe we could even get Wilson to be an expert witness and…"

"What did you just say?" Chase said. He stopped whimpering immediately and stared at House piercingly.

"What?" House blinked. He was being helpful here! Why was Chase looking like he was the enemy?

"How did you know my father had cancer?" Chase asked slowly. "I never mentioned that."

House was frozen in place. He scrambled for a moment, trying to think up some viable excuse, but it was too late. He'd been caught with his pants down and now all he could do was bend over and take it.

"You son of a bitch," Chase whispered. "You knew? How…"

"When he was here," House confessed uneasily. "He came to get an opinion from Wilson. I saw the radiation-tattoo under his collar once."

"Wilson," Chase repeated weakly. And he'd stupidly believed that his father had actually come to see him. 'I miss you' Sure he did. Maybe that last hug had been a waste after all.

House flinched when he realized what he was still letting slip, but he didn't try to correct Chase's misconception. Even if Rowan did love his son, he had a lousy way of showing it and Chase had every right to hate him, no matter how much he insisted he didn't.

"He asked me not to tell you," House defended.

"As that would ever make any difference to you," Chase sneered. He clambered to his feet and knocked over House's foot stool in the process. He didn't pick it up. "You've known all this time. How could you let me be blindsided like this?"

"Would knowing have made any difference?" House snapped. "Last time we talked about this, you weren't exactly eager to make nice with daddy."

"Don't you dare presume to know about my family!" Chase screamed. "You think because you've seen us at our worst, you know all there is to know about us? You don't know anything! I don't know what I would have done if I'd known my dad was going to die, but at least I would have had a choice. You kept that from me! At the very least I could have been more informed, I could have prepared! Now the courts are going to rule in Jakub's favor and I won't have time to appeal!"

"I didn't give him cancer, Chase," House said. "I didn't tell him to lie to you about it. I can't bring him back. I can't change his Will. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"I want you to do what you promised me," Chase said. He leaned over House's desk with his weight on his fists. "Wake Ricky up. Before Jakub can kill him!"


	10. Chapter 10

House rose to Chase's challenge as best he could. He had Cameron and Foreman running every test, reading every case study, and calling in opinions of every specialist any of them could think of. He even pulled Wilson in to see if his good nature and reputation could earn them a few more consultations. At first Cuddy didn't like House going around her to contact other hospitals, but once she was apprised of the situation she quickly got out of the way.

The whole time, Chase was banished from Diagnostics. He wasn't allowed to help in his brother's treatment, and no one could work with him hovering and fretting. House tried to send him home, but Chase begged to stay. So after he checked in each morning, hoping for progress, House sent his disheartened doctor off to the Clinic or ICU to keep him busy.

"You've had four days people!" House shouted at his team after having to send Chase away empty handed again. "Four days with nothing but this case. Almost two months to be thinking about it. And you've brought me nothing to work with."

"Well, what did you think we were going to find?" Foreman objected. "Dozens of doctors have worked this case for ten years with nothing to show for it. You can't expect miracles."

"I expect you to do your damn job!" House snapped.

"House, take it easy," Wilson pleaded. "Come on, even Chase isn't as worked up over this as you are."

"Yeah, well, we'll see how long that lasts when Chase's sequel gets cancelled," House grumbled.

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked. She flipped through the latest series of tests. "Ricky's condition hasn't worsened, has it? I'm not seeing any change here at all."

House leaned against the window, debating with his reflection. Medically, there was no need for any of them to know what was going on in Chase's family. But, on the other hand, it could be a strong motivational factor. They might even be able to come up with something to present to a judge in Chase's favor. Or they could find nothing and prove Jakub's case for him.

"Just find me something," House said. "Good, bad, ugly, I don't care what. Just find it."

The team filtered out slowly, but Wilson stayed behind. He had a pretty good idea what was going on after watching Chase and House closely for the past few days. He waited with his arms crossed until House turned around.

"This is about Rowan Chase, isn't it?" he asked. House frowned. "I was keeping an eye out for his obituary. Chase knows, then?"

"Yeah," House sighed.

"Everything?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh boy," Wilson groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess he was pretty upset, huh?" House glared derisively. "Of course. Well, look House I think it's great that you're concerned for Chase. But waking up his brother isn't going to make up for the loss of his dad. And giving him false hope is definitely not in his best interest. I mean, he's already got his hopes up just from you taking the case. He needs to understand that answers may never come, but if they do it'll take time."

"He doesn't have time," House said. "Big Brother Jakub is in town. Rowan Chase posthumously supported his oldest son's bid for custody. It's only a matter of time, as you say, until a judge signs off on it. And then it's bye-bye Ricky."

"Oh God," Wilson gasped. "You know, this family doesn't just have issues; they have a renewing subscription. Is Chase talking to a lawyer?"

"Not liking what he hears though," House said grimly. "He's been losing this battle for a long time now. This is just the killing blow." He paused and tilted his head to the side as he considered what he just said. "Sorry. Bad pun."

"Jesus," Wilson sighed. He shook his head and crossed his arms and legs. "You know, House, I hate to say it…"

"I know," House nodded. "I know."

Over the rest of the week, new therapies were suggested, attempted, and discarded. Ricky remained unconscious and Robert was sinking deeper and deeper into despair. By the weekend, he finally went to House and agreed to take some time off as long as he could remain in the hospital with Ricky just in case.

"What changed your mind?" House asked.

"I'm distracted," Chase shrugged. "It just took me fifteen minutes to decide if the redness on a kid's arm was poison oak or a bad friction burn. I just think I better rest up a bit, you know, before I really screw something up."

"Good plan," House said. "Wish I'd come up with it a week ago and told you to go home then."

"I'll be with my brother if you need me for anything," Chase said. "I just need a day or so to clear my head." He waited a moment for House to reply, but his boss was too engrossed in his battle with whatever villain was beeping at him from the screen of his toy. So Chase just nodded to himself and headed for the door, peeling off his white coat as he went.

"Have you heard from your lawyer?" House called after him before he reached the hall.

"He's filed a stay of some sort," Chase replied without turning around, his hand still on the doorknob. "Won't know anything until Monday."

"I don't want you back until you know what's happening," House ordered. "And no crashing here over night." Chase hid a flinch and wondered if House was just guessing or if he actually knew he'd been keeping watch over his twin ever since Jakub arrived. "Go home."

"I'll have my pager on," Chase said noncommittally. "Just let me know if you learn anything, and I'll do the same. And if there's a new case…"

"Go!" House barked and threw his tennis ball at him, just barely missing Chase's head.

Later that afternoon, Cameron and Foreman were in the conference room once again reviewing their options. House's whiteboard looked like a parrot had gone kamikaze on it from all the suggestions and rejections. Everyone was exhausted and frustrated.

"See, this is why taking on this case was a bad idea," Foreman said. "There's too much pressure because it's Chase's brother. We can't be objective."

"Oh, really," House said. "And what would the objective person say?"

"Pull the plug!" Foreman snapped. "The guy has missed ten years of his life. Even if he could wake up now, who's to say he'd even want to?"

"Foreman!" Cameron gasped.

"Well, come on now!" Foreman persisted. "If this were any other patient, any family member other than Chase, what would you tell them?"

It was a fair question, and a damn good point actually, but House was not prepared to deal with either. He'd vowed to wake this patient up, and that was what he was going to do. He couldn't let this go without even figuring out what was wrong. Failure was never an acceptable option, and especially not now. Because House couldn't shake the feeling that if he lost Ricky Chase, Robert wouldn't be far behind him. That wasn't acceptable either; House liked his team the way it was. And it would probably take a lot more than an extorted date to get Chase back if he left now.

"I was hoping for an answer to that question myself," a rumbling accent said from the open doorway where Jakub Chase was standing. House gripped his cane so tight it left a deep imprint on his hand and cursed under his breath. Cameron and Foreman just looked confused.

"Nice timing, idiot," House hissed at Foreman. "You get to be the one to explain this to Chase."

"What are you talking about?" Foreman said. "What's going on?"

"Hello again, Dr. House," Jakub said. He nodded to Cameron and Foreman, trying not to grimace at their hostile glares. "And I' don't believe we've met yet," he introduced himself. "I'm Jakub Chase; I'm the twins' older brother. I was hoping we could discuss Richard's status, if you've got the time."

"Comatose," House said. "Anything else?"

"Well," Jakub drawled. "Robert told me he had very high hopes when you took our brother's case. I suppose I was hoping there might be some justification for that. You haven't found anything? Good or bad?"

"Your brother hired me," House said. "You want a doctor to tell you it's okay to kill the other one, hire your own."

"Ricky is already dead, Dr. House," Jakub replied. "I don't need anyone to tell me that."

"His EEG says otherwise," House argued.

"And yet you still can't wake him up," Jakub snapped back. "Can you? Why do you think that is?" He reached into his left jacket pocket and pulled out a folded blue packet of papers, court issued. He held it out, but House refused to take it so Foreman did instead. "Robert's stay was denied. I've been made Richard's guardian. I need to know exactly what his condition is…so I can make a decision."

"Oh, how good did that feel to say?" House sneered. Foreman and Cameron were gaping, trying to figure out what was going on, but House wasn't in the mood to stop and spell it out for them. "You just can't wait, can you? What do you need my opinion for? You've already made up your mind. I'm surprised you didn't just go straight on up and…"

"Stop right there!" Jakub shouted at him. "You think I don't care? You think this is any easier for me than it is for Robert? Maybe this hasn't quite registered with you, Dr. House, but Ricky is my brother too! I don't want to lose him. But I did. It happened. And I wasn't there to stop it. I can't change that! But I won't stand by and let Robbie get dragged down by this as well. At least not any more than he already has. That, I can change. Now, if you have anything that could prove that maybe our brother can still be saved, please tell me. Otherwise…"

House pulled his lips tight into his mouth and stared at the floor. He was trying to think of a good bluff, but there was nothing. And maybe Foreman was right, maybe he was holding onto one this just because it was Chase's brother.

"There's no news," House admitted.

Jakub's face fell and he took a deep, shuddering breath. He nodded once, turned sharply around, and headed for the elevator. House grabbed his cane from where it was leaning against the white board and hurried out after him. He grabbed the service elevator and took it directly to Palliative care, knowing Chase would still be there. He just hoped he didn't miss the explosion; it was sure to be one hell of a show.


	11. Chapter 11

The service elevator was faster than the public one, so House reached Palliative first. He didn't knock, but he did open the door slowly and peeked inside before entering. Chase was sitting in a chair next to his brother reading from a book in a whisper. Apparently he was engrossed too, because he didn't look up when House came in. When he got close enough, House realized Chase wasn't even speaking English.

"That's not Czech," House said, guessing that would be the most likely language Chase would know because of his father.

"Damn, you startled me," Chase gasped. He looked a bit guilty at being caught, since House had ordered him home. "No, it's not. How'd you know that? You speak it?"

"Nope," House shook his head. "I've got Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, and Arabic. You?"

"Japanese," Chase started with the common language. "Czech-Slovak, Russian, passable Hungarian, and Latin."

The Slavic languages all came from Rowan, probably. Latin was obviously from seminary. And House assumed Japanese might be taught in Australia, since the two countries were so close, like Spanish (Mexico) and French (Canada) in the USA.

"But none of those were coming out of your mouth," House pointed out. He glanced at the door and bounced his cane against the floor. What was keeping Jakub? "So what was that?"

"How do you know?" Chase was blushing a bit. "You don't speak any of the Czech, Russian, or Hungarian."

"But I know what they sound like," House argued. This was entirely inappropriate, given what was about to happen, and even House realized that. But what about a language could make Chase blush? Suddenly it dawned on him. "Cryptophasia?"

Chase looked startled again. "Damn, House, is there any obscure reference you haven't memorized?" he griped.

Twins sometimes created a made-up language between the two of them, usually around the same time they were first learning to speak a real language. People who feel the need to assign names to such things refer to it as cryptophasia. Since the Chase twins grew up in a multi-lingual household from the beginning, their language was artful.

"Aren't twins supposed to grow out of that phase when they're, like, two?" House asked. And Chase hadn't had anyone to practice with in nearly a decade. Chase didn't rise to the bait, though. He was too busy glaring beyond House toward the door. And from the way Chase's hand was trembling, House knew why.

"Richard and Robert spoke in that gibberish more often than English," Jakub said fondly. "It drove our mother crazy. I remember she wanted Dad to send you to a speech therapist to make you stop, but he loved listening to you."

"He used to record us," Chase agreed warily. "Try to decode what we were saying. I don't think he ever quite got it though."

This was not a situation that could be diffused by small talk. The brothers just stared at each other. Suddenly, this didn't seem like an interesting spectacle anymore and House was wishing he was somewhere else.

"Robert," Jakub finally spoke.

"Don't," Chase interjected. He ran to Jakub, and for a moment House thought he was going to fall to his knees in front of him, but Chase just stood there, the epitomy of desperation and helplessness. "Please, Jakub? Don't do this to us. He's your brother too."

"Robbie, you're a doctor," Jakub said wearily. He'd said all this before, but he had to try again now. "What would you say if you had a patient in Ricky's condition? What would you want for yourself? You have a living will, don't you? What does it say to do if you're ever in Ricky's place?"

"It says as long as Ricky's still alive, I want to be too," Chase said stubbornly.

The implication being that if Ricky was not alive…what? Jakub was thinking it too, House could tell, and for a moment he wondered if it would be enough to dissuade him. But he could see the moment when Jakub sealed his resolve and it was all he could do not to smack the bastard's face to the back of his head.

"Robbie," Jakub sighed and shook his head. He even reached out for him, wanting to offer some comfort, but Chase pushed past him.

"No!"

Chase ran for the door, probably to call his lawyer or maybe even to ask Cuddy to intervene. Maybe he didn't know what he was going to do. But the crash team on call was already waiting in the hall. House found it ironic that the doctors and nurses called in to save a patient when they coded were also frequently the ones called in to pull the plug. He doubted Chase would appreciate the observation, though, and for once that actually mattered. Adding insult to injury, two security guards were already with them.

"Don't do this," Chase begged, thought it wasn't clear who he was asking. Dignity was no longer a concern, so he was probably asking anyone who'd listen. "Please?" When it was clear that the doctor and nurses were steadfastly ignoring him – House noticed with disdain that one of them was already tearing up – Chase turned back to his brother. "Tell them to stop! Damn you, Jakub, make them stop! If you're really my brother, if you've ever cared about either of us at all, you won't do this. Jakub, please, don't do this!"

"I do care about you, Robbie," Jakub said. He was pretty close to begging himself now. He held Chase's face in his hands, and Chase was so distraught he actually let him. "I love you. And I loved Ricky. But he's gone, Robert. He's been gone for a long time, and I can't keep watching you fade away with him!"

"I hate you!" Chase screamed, and shoved Jakub away from him. "Why couldn't she have killed you?" Up till now, Jakub seemed pretty unshakable, but damn if he didn't flinch at that.

"Mr. Chase?" The doctor asked uncertainly for instructions. What was his name again? Failey? Fallero? Oh well, it didn't really matter. From this day forward he would be known in Diagnostics as 'the guy who killed Chase's brother.' And going by the look on his face, he knew it too.

"Quickly, please," Jakub choked. House was startled to realize that the oldest Chase brother was crying.

"No, stop it!" Chase screamed. He lunged at the doctor, but the security guards grabbed him by the arms to stop him. Chase threw all his weight forward and down before jumping back out of their grasp. Then he reached back, ready to punch the one standing most in his way.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" House dropped his cane and grabbed Chase's wrist. Chase whirled around on him with the other fist ready. House raised his arms to protect his head, but Chase stopped himself. He turned around when the whine of the monitor announced the removal of Ricky's feeding tube.

"Put it back," Chase demanded. But they were already wheeling the apparatus out of the room. The security guards remained firmly between Chase and the other staff members until they were out the door. The doctor paused, maybe to offer condolences, but apparently decided he didn't want to risk Chase taking a swing at him too. "Wait. Come back!"

"Robbie," Jakub murmured. He stood behind Chase with both hands on his shoulders. Chase spun around, grabbed him by the lapels, and slammed him into the wall. "Robert, stop!"

"Call them back," Chase said. "Tell them to put it back!"

"You know I won't do that, Robert," Jakub said.

"Jakub, please!" Chase begged. He was sobbing in earnest, clinging to his older brother. Jakub held him around the waist just to keep him from collapsing. "Please, don't. Don't let Ricky die like this. Please? Please! Just give us a little more time. Okay?"

"Robert, it's been nearly ten years," Jakub said. "He's not going to wake up. And you've been waiting long enough. You need to start thinking about yourself again!"

"I can't do this without him!" Chase screamed.

What exactly 'this' referred to wasn't clear, but House was seriously considering calling the psych ward to see about getting Chase committed on a suicide watch. In all his years, he had never seen someone lose it so spectacularly. He certainly never expected to see it from his stoic, pacifistic, enduring Intensivist. It was part of why he pushed Chase so much further and so much more viciously than the other two. He knew he could get away with it, and part of him wanted to see Chase crack. But now…he really didn't want to see it anymore.

"Come on, Robert," Jakub coaxed. "Let me take you home, okay? You and I need to talk. And you really need some rest."

"I'm not leaving him," Chase whimpered. He climbed onto the bed and curled up next to his twin with his hand over his heart, as though trying to reassure himself that although off the feeding tube, Ricky wasn't dead yet.

"Robert," Jakub pleaded. But nothing short of Armageddon was going to get Chase out of that room. So Jakub just sighed, tried to dry his own eyes, and left the twins in peace. House figured Chase wasn't ready to deal with him just yet, and he wasn't about to just sit there listening to the young man cry, so he followed Jakub. He caught up with him just in time to ride down in the same elevator.

"You know, for someone who doesn't want to lose his brother, you've come about as close to killing him as you could get without actually doing the deed," House commented. "What's the deal? Don't want to split the inheritance?"

"You don't understand," Jakub said brokenly. He sounded so tired. Tired of fighting his little brother. Tired of being the villain. Tired of trying to make a decision that should never have to be made.

"So explain it to me," House said. Jakub glanced at him incredulously, as if to ask why he would share his family's tragedy with someone like him. "Come on," House pushed. "If you can't convince a semi-objective stranger to see your side of things, how do you ever expect to make baby brother forgive you?"

"I don't care if he forgives me," Jakub lied. "I just want him alive!"

"And you thought this was the best way to achieve that?" House asked. Jakub sighed and shook his head. "I'll even throw in a cup of coffee," House bribed. He could shell out a couple dollars for a closer peek into this drama.

"I could use it," Jakub reluctantly agreed. After all, this Dr. House was a man Robert seemed to respect, for whatever reason. Maybe he could help Robert understand.

It was getting dark by the time they reached the cafeteria. House and Jakub sat at a table far away from the television where everyone congregated so they wouldn't be disturbed. The coffee was stale, but still hot. House noticed how Jakub added the exact same obscene amounts of cream and sugar as Robert Chase did.

"I understand why he resents me," Jakub said.

House nearly groaned at the opening, already starting to regret this. He was a researcher, not a confidant. But he still wanted to know, so he just nodded and sipped from his own cup.

"Our mother didn't want me around the house after I left," Jakub explained. "So I wasn't really a part of their lives. But I talked to our father a lot, and he always had a story to share about them."

"Really," House said skeptically. After all, according to Chase, Rowan wasn't exactly a hands-on kind of father. But if Jakub heard his doubt, he didn't let on. In fact, he started laughing.

"Oh, they were a wicked little pair," he chuckled. "You know, they got suspended from kindie their first week?"

"How did they manage that?" House was compelled to ask. He'd never thought of Chase as a hell-raiser.

"They had one of those over-anxious, do-gooder teachers," Jakub explained. "She felt that twins should be kept apart as much as possible so they could develop as independent individuals." Jakub's smile dampened a bit. "She might not have been entirely wrong, I suppose. But anyway, when Ricky and Robbie sat together, she told them move to opposite sides of the room. They refused, so she tried to make them."

"And they unleashed hell," House guessed.

"We never did work out exactly what happened," Jakub said. "But we do know that one of them kicked her. The other one bit her! At one point one of them was one on her back with his arms around her neck – I'm pretty sure that one was Robbie – while the other one was stomping on her toes trying to make her let go of his arm. And then, after they got away and ran out of the classroom, they hid in a janitor's closet for an hour before they were found. For the rest of the day, even after Dad brought them home, they clung to each other like it was the end of the world."

Somewhere in the middle of the story, Jakub's laughter dissolved into tears. Once again, House started to wonder if his search for information was worth this. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Could he maybe subtly page Wilson? Actually, that was a good idea, if not to deal with this Chase, at least with the other one. He pulled out his phone under the table and speed-dialed Wilson's extension. He couldn't leave a message without being noticed, but he figured sooner or later the oncologist would find him. In the mean time, he'd just have to keep Jakub talking and endure the mushy stuff until he got to something useful.

"I let them down," Jakub said. He'd gotten control of himself quickly and was wiping his face with his napkin. "They never should have been left alone with her. I knew it then too. I even talked to a lawyer about taking them myself. But even our father wasn't fighting the custody arrangement. No one was going to take two boys away from their mother and give them to their bachelor big brother. I had no case!"

"You think she meant to kill them?" House asked.

"I don't care if she did or not," Jakub snapped. "She destroyed her entire family just because she couldn't deal with the fact that she was third-rate dancer with a dead career." House blinked. Apparently Jakub did not idealize their mother the way Robert, despite his bitterness, still did. "And our father! Signing custody of Ricky over to Robert, of all the stupid things he could have done! This should never have been Robert's decision to make."

"So you took it away from him," House guessed.

"I had to!" Jakub insisted. It was suddenly very important for someone, anyone, to understand why he was doing this. "You know, Robert never wanted to be a doctor."

That was no surprise to House. He always imagined Rowan had forced his son into it somehow. He was glad he had, though, because Chase was damn good doctor. He'd be brilliant one day, if House had anything to say about it. It's why he was so much more vicious when Chase made a mistake, even a slight or justifiable mistake. His instincts told him that Chase could be so much better than he was, and it frustrated House that he wasn't. Frustrated him to the point that he'd almost given up on the kid.

"He became a doctor for Ricky," House supposed. Maybe that was how he convinced Rowan to give him custody?

"You have no idea how true that is," Jakub said bitterly. "Robert never wanted to be a doctor, but Ricky did."

Okay, now that was little surprising. And interesting, finally!

"They used to call themselves a tag team," Jakub nodded. "Doctor Richard Chase would take care of people's bodies while Father Robert Chase looked after their souls."

"Especially useful if Ricky screws up and kills someone," House commented.

"That's exactly what Robert used to say!" Jakub smiled.

House, on the other hand, was a bit disgruntled by that. Foreman thought Chase found House amusing because he was a suck up, but apparently they did have similar senses of humor. Chase just hadn't mastered House's cynicism yet.

"I think Robert stayed in seminary as long as he had real hope that Ricky would wake up," Jakub admitted. "He left within a month of being told for the first time that Ricky was a lost cause. Ever since then…it's like he's trying to live Ricky's life for him! Ricky may be the one who didn't wake up, but in a way Robert is the one who died. I can't bring Ricky back, but I have to at least try with Robert."

"And this is supposed to resuscitate him?" House asked. "If he's this bad now, how do you think he'll be when Ricky actually dies? Are you going to stick around to clean up the mess when Robert crashes?"

"Actually, I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to convince Robert to come back to Oz with me," Jakub confessed.

Oh, like hell! House and Chase had both been through way too much trying to keep him here just for Jakub to swoop in and take him away now. But what was he worried about? There's no way Chase would go with Jakub.

"It's going to be slow, you know," House said. "Comatose or not, he's essentially starving to death."

"Please don't," Jakub shook his head.

House took pity on him and didn't push. He didn't want to. He wanted to berate and hassle Jakub. He wanted to side with Robert. He wanted his infamous genius to kick in and figure out a way to fix this. But he also realized, as a doctor, that Jakub was right. And, short of a miracle, Ricky was finally going to finish dying.

This was a prime example of why House was determined not to believe in God. What kind of God would allow this to happen? Oh sure, Chase's bitch of a mother could be blamed on human agency and free will. But what about Ricky's inexplicable condition? How could the just and loving God that Chase wanted so much to believe in leave Ricky the way he was? Either wake him up or let him die immediately! Don't let him linger just to make his brothers suffer, to destroy what was left of an already damaged family. And to make it worse, Robert was devout! He'd been ready to become a priest, for crying out loud! Didn't that count for anything? Apparently not, and House could only hope it was because God did not exist, because he couldn't come up with a better alternative.

"You paged me?" Wilson startled House and Jakub both out of their musing. He looked curiously at Jakub, whom he'd never seen.

"Took you long enough," House grumbled.

"Next time, include your location and I'll make it faster," Wilson said. "What's up?"

"Here," House left a few crumpled dollar bills on the table in front of Jakub. "Have another on me." He grabbed Wilson's arm and pulled him from the cafeteria. "Come on."

"Did you just buy someone else a cup of coffee?" Wilson demanded.

"Oh, get over it," House said. "Come on, you need to talk to Chase."

"Why?" Wilson asked.

"Because the guy I just shelled out three bucks for is Chase's big brother," House explained. "He came in here with a court order and took Ricky off the tube."

"Oh God," Wilson groaned. "How's Chase taking it?"

"Kicking and screaming," House said. "And I'm being literal. That's why you're going to talk to him. You're good at getting people to accept death."

"Whoa, uh-uh." Wilson stopped walking. He put up his hands and shook his head. "Their own deaths, maybe, but this is not my area. Besides, Chase isn't going to want to talk to me."

"Everyone wants to talk to you," House argued.

"House," Wilson urged.

"Look, if not you I'll have to sick Cameron on him," House said. "And she's going to be useless. At best, she'll start sobbing along with him. At worst, she'll try to convince the hospital chaplain to marry them."

"Her and Chase?" Wilson frowned.

"Her and Ricky," House corrected.

"House," Wilson repeated, putting on his disappointed tone.

"Wilson, seriously," House said in earnest. "You're good at this sort of thing. He needs you."

"Not yet, he doesn't," Wilson disagreed. "I'll talk to him when he's ready. I want to help as much as I can. God knows, he's going to need it. But he's not ready for me yet."

"Oh for the love of…" House sneered. "Fine! But when I make it worse, you're paying for his therapy. And my dry cleaning, if he gets any snotty tears on me."

A/N: My God, that was hard to write! Okay people, I need feedback on this one. Guesses and suggestions about what's to come are welcome sources of inspiration, which I need because this was really draining. I also like to hear opinions about characters, especially-but-not-limited-to Jakub, Chase, and House. I'll take any reviews, but long ones make me happiest. So let me have it! I promise to update at least one of my stories within a month if you do.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: WARNING!!! Medical information from this point on is totally made up!!! This is 95 fiction with 5 inspired by facts found at this website:

http// www. sciencedaily. com/ releases / 2007/ 07 / 070721192754. htm

(remove spaces before trying link)

When he reluctantly returned to Ricky's room, House was indescribably relieved to find Chase had stopped crying. He was sitting in a chair next to Ricky, brushing his twin's hair. Normally, House wouldn't have been able to resist a joke, but this time he couldn't even think of one.

"They'll keep him hydrated," House said, pointing to the IV. It was a pathetic attempt at comfort, even to his own ears, but he couldn't think of anything better. "It won't be, you know, painful or anything." Well, not for Ricky at least.

"I don't want to talk about it," Chase said numbly.

"Okay, listen." House pulled up a chair from the table to sit across the bed from Chase. "Keeping in mind that hitting your boss is generally not a good career move, have you ever considered that maybe your brother could be right?"

"No," Chase sneered at him. "And if that's all you've got to say you can leave."

"Are you really just going to sit here until he dies?" House snapped. Of all the stupid, morbid, self-destructive ways to sulk!

"Get out!"

"How many times have you upped an unsalvageable ICU patient's morphine so they'd be comfortable while they died a little bit quicker?" House pressed. "How many times have you told a patient to sign a DNR, just in case? Or moved just a little bit slower so a family wouldn't have to make a decision like this? If it were any other patient…"

"But it's not any other patient!" Chase said. "What are you trying to do here, anyway? It's not my call anymore. He's going to die, okay? It doesn't matter whether I'm convinced or not. So, just leave us alone."

"What us? You're not the one who's dying!" House reminded him.

"Shut up!" Chase shouted. "I don't want to hear it anymore, alright? I've been doing this for ten years! What the hell do you think you're going to tell me that I haven't already heard a million times? What, should I put myself in his position and realize that I wouldn't want to live like this? Should I ask myself what Ricky would tell me to do if he could still speak? Or maybe I should just suck it up and realize that he's already gone, huh? Go away, House. Just go away."

Chase clearly had nothing more to say to him, nor was he in the mood to listen. Probably for the best, really, as anything House said at the moment would be coming directly out of his ass. There really was nothing more he could say that Chase didn't already know. He'd failed. He didn't solve the puzzle in time and now it was too late. One more file to add to the bottom of the drawer, along with Ester's and his own. He got up and walked to the door, but when he reached it he paused. Ricky was out of his hands, but what about Robert?

What would it take to get Chase through this? Maybe he could arrange a religious experience of some kind? Maybe set one of the bushes lining the parking lot on fire, hide with a megaphone and…No, stop, not the time to mock Chase's faith, or former faith as the case may be, he was still a bit fuzzy on Chase's current beliefs. And besides, House doubted God was the one Chase needed to talk to. He had a habit of not answering. And as for his earthly representatives, they would probably just assure Chase that his brother was now in a better place. And how exactly was that supposed to make the surviving loved one feel any better about the Hell they were left behind in? Find comfort with friends and family? Nuh-uh!

Chase had it right, didn't he? The only person who could give Chase the answers he needed right now was the clone slowly dying in that hospital bed. Chase could ask himself - and probably would ask himself for the rest of his life – what Ricky would really feel about this whole situation. But if Ricky could give those answers they wouldn't be here now would they?

Wait a second…wait a second! This was reminding him of something…Oh, it was just there! Right at the back of his mind…he almost had it…Yes! Oh, yes, it's perfect! There's almost no way in hell it's going to work, but if it did it'd be perfect!!! House started jabbing his floor number over and over again, cursing the elevator's slowness, all with a huge grin on his face. Perfect!

Wilson was already in his office waiting for him, but House breezed right past him. He started tearing through his bookshelves, pulling off any journal he could find and tossing it aside just as quickly, only pausing once or twice to flip through the pages before discarding it as well.

"So…how'd it go?" Wilson asked warily as he ducked out of the way of a flying publication. "Did you talk to Chase?" House grunted and waved his hand vaguely at him. "Is he alright? House!"

This was the scene Cameron and Foreman entered. They had both been searching the hospital for either their colleague or their employer, yearning for an update on the status of the Chase family. However, when they saw House rampaging through his desk drawers now, still apparently looking for a journal, any hope for answers quickly dissolved into deeper confusion.

"So…" Foreman drawled. "What'd we miss?"

"Jakub had the tube removed; Chase flipped out; House tried talking to him; and I don't have the slightest idea what the hell he's doing now," Wilson recapped quickly.

"Oh my God," Cameron sighed. "Is he still with his brother? Maybe we should go talk to him."

Neither Wilson nor Foreman looked particularly pleased with that suggestion, so instead they followed House, who was apparently moving his rampage from the office into the conference room leaving a trail of publications and muttered cursing behind him.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Foreman asked warily.

House stood up from bending over the lowest drawer of the filing cabinet and stared at Foreman incredulously. He glanced pointedly at each of the medical journals scattered across the floor and then back at Foreman. Then he shook his head and went back to digging through the drawers.

"Which one?" Foreman said between clenched teeth.

"If I knew that," House snapped. "I would have…" he stopped when he spotted a familiar cover. "Found it!" He yanked out the journal, plopped down at the table, and started tearing through it for the right article.

"Well?" Cameron asked impatiently. "Are you going to tell us?"

"Here it is," House crowed. He pushed the article across the table for them to read and then sat back with his arms crossed behind his head. The three other doctors scanned the article with oscillating levels of interest, hope, disgust, and outrage.

It outlined a foreign case study in which a coma patient was exposed to a virus coded Kamian-9 after the primary physician. The virus was deadly if untreated, but when the coma patient contracted the disease it had the startling side-effect of waking the man up. In a move that never would have made it past the American Medical Association, the doctor gathered and exposed 15 other long-term coma patients to the virus; 3 did not contract the disease at all. Nine more contracted the virus, but did not awaken before the virus had to be treated. The remaining three, like the original patient, woke from their comas and remained awake and lucid as long as the virus was active in their system. Unfortunately, as soon as the virus was treated – which had to happen within 7-10 days in order to prevent fatality – the patients all fell back into their comas.

The virus did nothing to reverse whatever was actually responsible for the patients' comas; it bypassed it temporarily by boosting the electrical activity in the brain. Apparently the virus stimulated neurons particularly in the reticular activating system and the SubCoeruleus nucleus, which affect sleep patterns, and increased electrical coupling between those cells. As a result, some patients were stimulated into a wakeful state – in fact the patients that did awaken also suffered from mild insomnia until they went back into their comas. It was interesting while it was happening, but practical application was limited. It was cited as an interesting guide mark for future research and then forgotten. The study had yet to be duplicated.

Since the virus was deadly and the effect only temporary, House had disregarded it early on and not thought about it since. He was looking for a way to wake Ricky up and keep him awake. But now…well, even if it didn't work at least he could say he tried everything. And if it did work maybe Ricky could tell them something that Robert hadn't been able to. At least he'd finally be able to make his wishes known and take the burden off his brothers. It was perfect. It was brilliant.

"Are you out of your mind?" Cameron screeched.

It was apparently going to be controversial. Dammit, why couldn't anyone ever just let him do his job? When were they going to learn? House always knows best.

"Ricky is a perfect candidate," House exaggerated. "His other tests show limited brain degeneration. His scans resemble sleep patterns more than anything else. C'mon, you've seen them! If the virus is going to work on anyone..."

"And what if it does?" Foreman challenged. "Then what? We let him die conscious instead of comatose? He'll only be awake while the virus is active, and if we leave the virus untreated it'll kill him!"

"So we give it a try," House insisted. "And if it doesn't work out, we're no worse off than we are now."

"What about Chase?" Cameron demanded. "You can't put him through this!"

"Well, actually," House disagreed as he pushed his rolling chair over toward the phone. "Since the Kamian virus is easily treatable and therefore even easier to obtain, I can." He started dialing, but paused when he saw Foreman and Cameron still staring at him. "Shoo!"

His underlings fled the office, no doubt to undermine him in some way. Forget 'ducklings' might as well call them the Three Stooges. Wilson remained with his arms crossed and a slightly constipated expression, like he didn't know whether to encourage or berate.

"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked.

"Hell no," House answered. "But the worst thing that can happen is the clone dies, and right now that's a given anyway so…"

"Are you sure that's the worst?" Wilson pressed. House paused.

"When I took this case, Chase told us he'd tried everything," he said gravely. "It's important to him, being able to say that."

Wilson nodded. He actually understood. Many times patient families came to him after a loved one had passed, wracked with guilt because the treatment had dragged out ineffectively and their loved one had spent their final days, weeks, or even months in terrible pain. They wondered if it might not have been better just to let them go, and in some cases it probably would have been. Even so, almost all of them came to the same conclusion eventually: they'd had to try.

"You better hurry," was all Wilson said before returning to his own office and his own patients. House agreed; he would have infected Ricky with the virus that evening if he could have, since it would only take a few hours for the sample to arrive. Unfortunately, another obstacle was being erected in his path. Damn stooges.

House was on his way to Palliative to launch his latest idea to Chase when his pager went off summoning him to Cuddy's office. When he arrived, Cameron was standing nervously by the couch trying desperately to look resolved and righteous. Foreman was sitting down looking pensive and undecided. So, at least he knew which one had spilled the beans. Cuddy was sitting behind her desk with her hands folded and her lips tight.

"What the hell are you thinking?" she said bemusedly. House glared at Cameron, and enjoyed watching her wither.

"This virus is our only chance," House insisted.

"House, this virus is fatal!" Cuddy argued.

"Only if it's not cured in time," House said. "Which, miracle of miracles, we know how to do."

"Yes, and according to the case study, when we do Ricky goes right back into his coma," Cuddy retorted. "Assuming the virus brings him out of it at all, which is not guaranteed. It only worked in 20 of the exposed patients, and that was a very limited sample."

"But if it does work, he'd be awake," House said. "He'd be able to tell us things that Chase can't. Maybe give us a clue as to how to wake him up for real." The others still looked skeptical, and House growled in frustration. "Come on! What's the problem? If we do nothing, he's going to die anyway!"

"We're not worried about him, we're worried about Chase," Cameron said. "Let's assume for arguments sake that the virus does wake Ricky up. The chances that you'll find a way to keep him awake are practically nonexistent. You want to give Chase back his brother for a couple of days, and then take him away again? You can't do that to him, House!"

"You think he'd rather just let his brother die like this?" House said. "Knowing that there was one more thing he didn't get to try, always wondering if it would have worked, never getting to say goodbye?" That, at least, seemed to be getting some second thoughts from Cameron and Foreman. But Cuddy was still in administrative mode, so an emotional ploy wasn't going to work with her. "Besides, Robert Chase is not our patient. Richard Chase is. He's the one we're obligated to help now."

This was the part of being an administrator that sometimes just wasn't worth it. Everyone was staring at Cuddy, waiting for her to decide between a patient and one of her own doctors. If this didn't work, it could very well break Chase for good. Of course, if it did work, who knows what could happen? Chase's entire life had revolved around taking care of his comatose brother for over nine years. For the past three years, that included fighting a legal battle with his other brother, who also just wanted to do right by his siblings. Which one was right? Cuddy honestly couldn't say. But legally, the decision now belonged to Jakub, so…

"All right," Cuddy consented. House beamed. "After you get consent from Mr. Chase. He's the new guardian. He has to approve this."

Damn.


End file.
